Epic of Fate
by Nothing is Beautiful and True1
Summary: Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, son of Lugalbanda and the goddess Rimat-Ninsun, grew to become an arrogant and cruel tyrant. In response, the gods plucked a hero out of time to oppose him. She was both his complete opposite… and his equal. AU
1. A Future that Changes the Past

"Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does."

The people of Uruk cried out. Oppressed by a king both man and god, their laments drifted along the current of the Euphrates River. Women found the nights of their wedding violated by the rights of their king. Men exhausted themselves building a great wall with no respite in sight. Discontent swelled in concert with King Gilgamesh's arrogance; growing shadows in wake of his golden glow.

The gods heard the plea of their people and decided to answer.

…

"He must be stopped. I should strike him down myself for his obscene arrogance."

"He is proud, yes. But we predicted this fate, did we not? He is still a great king. Uruk prospers under his heavy touch."

"Heavy touch? A clenched fist would be more appropriate. Gilgamesh was created to observe, to ease the transition between god and man. But he likely thinks himself above even the gods. He requires a lesson in humility."

"Countermeasures have long been set in motion. Let us bring about the attention of the beast I molded from clay. The time is now."

"You wish to tame a beast with another beast? What a foolish thought."

"You have a better suggestion?"

"Gilgamesh might have divine blood running through his veins, but in every way, he is a man. Only a woman of his equal will ever humble such hubris."

"What a ridiculous notion."

"Have a care with how you use your tongue. I will rip it out if it continues to wag in such insulting fashion."

"Everyone, relax. Your idea is an intriguing one, Ishtar. Let us scatter the pieces of Fate and see where they fall."

"So be it."

…

There was a sword in the stone.

Its hilt gleamed golden in early morning sunlight. It cast a long shadow across worn earth. Solitude emanated from the striking image. Tragic, beautiful loneliness.

His breath hitched. Desire flooded him. Walking forward, he attempted to pull the sword from the stone.

It did not budge.

Outrage replaced desire. Red eyes narrowed.

"How dare you defy my sovereignty?" he proclaimed. "I am both god and man, and thus, so much more than either. Bend to my will or face the consequences."

Grabbing the hilt with both hands, he set his legs shoulder width apart and pulled with all his might. Metal whined and squealed against stone. He tried to wrench it free but found he could not. No matter how hard he tried it refused to come loose. The ground beneath his feet groaned and cracked from his considerable strength.

Stepping back, he considered the sword.

An unfamiliar emotion filled him. Giddy, he spread his arms wide and began to laugh. His mirth echoed across the empty plain, devoid of joy but brimming with hope.

…

She awoke on the side of a hill. Grass tickled her cheek as a playful breeze tugged at her blonde hair. She laid there, remembering another hill. Where bodies stretched as far as the eye could see and swords stuck out of the barren earth like perverse blades of grass. When the sky had run red to reflect all the needless bloodshed, while carrion birds darkened the horizon in anticipation of a grisly feast.

Regret tasted bracken and bitter, Arturia decided. She sat up and brushed aside her tears, considering her surroundings. Much of the land stretched broken by low, rolling hills. At the basin a fair distance away sprawled a massive river. Its waters gleamed in the bright morning light.

Thirsty, Arturia got to her feet and descended toward the riverbank. Letting her armor fall away, Arturia placed her hands in the water. Cold and wet, the gentle current tugged at her fingers. Smiling, Arturia cupped the river's life blood and drank deeply. Water spilled down her chin and dress. She sputtered, both shocked and invigorated at how cold and crisp it was.

There was a disturbance. Tension rippled the river's surface. Arturia watched as the waters swirled and parted, revealing a very beautiful, very naked woman. Arturia averted her gaze out of respect, sensing the approaching woman's great power. A slim hand found Arturia's chin, forcing her to meet the stranger's dark eyes.

"You are Arturia Pendragon, daughter of Uther Pendragon, the King of Knights, summoned as a servant of the Saber Class?" questioned the woman.

"Yes," Arturia said after a pause. The woman smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Excellent. I am your Master, Ishtar, goddess of love and war. I had to go through a great deal of trouble to summon you here." Ishtar inspected Arturia, her lips pursed and her expression critical. Uncomfortable, Arturia tried to shift away, but Ishtar's grip was like iron.

"What do you wish of me?" Arturia asked. Ishtar laughed and let go of her face.

"Good response. Gaze upon the Euphrates with me, Saber." Ishtar turned her back on Arturia. Blushing faintly at the sight of the goddess's smooth, bare back, Arturia stood by her side and scrutinized the river once more.

Ishtar chuckled, seeming amused at Arturia's embarrassment. Kneeling, Ishtar brushed a hand along the water, disrupting their reflections. A bright red cross flashed on the back of her hand. Then Arturia was distracted by the image forming on the river.

A handsome man, naked as the day he was born – did no one wear clothes here? – lay on a bed. His red eyes glittered in the darkness, hungry like a snake. A young girl approached, visibly afraid and in a similar state of undress. She scattered flower petals over the man, who smirked. They drifted onto the bed, bright shades of yellow. Arturia realized what was happening and frowned.

"Is this necessary?" she asked.

"Your prudery is adorable," Ishtar said. She brushed her hands over the water and the vision disappeared. "The man was King Gilgamesh of Uruk. The woman a virgin bride, on the night of her wedding. And yet, the king is not her groom."

Arturia needed a second to comprehend the revelation. Her mouth hardened into a straight line and her blue eyes grew dark. She said, "How can that be? Why would anyone tolerate such an affront?"

"The right of the king –."

"No king should ever be allowed such!" Arturia was on her feet, blazing with righteous anger. "And anyone who believes otherwise is unfit to be king! It is wrong!" Ishtar tilted her head.

"I will forgive you for interrupting me, but just this once. Gilgamesh has become arrogant and cruel in his tyranny. He must be humbled. Do you understand what I am saying?" Arturia remembered the look in the girl's eye as she approached her so-called king. Touching Excalibur's hilt, Arturia felt a grim smile form as her purpose became clear.

"Yes."

…

Gilgamesh hadn't visited his mother in a long time. She looked pleased to see him approach. They embraced, although Gilgamesh was quick to pull away. Rimat-Ninsun seemed somewhat sad for a split second, but was quick to recover.

"What brings you here, my son?" she asked.

"I had strange dream," he replied. Ninsun waited for him to elaborate. Gilgamesh described his vision of the sword in the stone.

"Did you have any other dreams?" she asked. Gilgamesh stared at her.

"Yes, I had a second dream. A scaled, winged creature fell from the stars and careened into Uruk's marketplace. It breathed fire and smoke, a fearsome monster, but its eyes were blue and filled with sorrow. The people of Uruk gathered about, but it ignored them in my favor. Enraptured by my radiance, no doubt." Gilgamesh added the last part as an afterthought. Ninsun didn't dignify his final words with a response.

"My son, I tell you truly, these premonitions speak of one who comes to face you as an equal. A companion," she said. Gilgamesh blinked.

"An equal?" He began to laugh. "How could such a thing even be possible? I walk the path of true isolation; who else can say the same? King, man, and god… none could ever hope to be my equal." Ninsun reached out and touched Gilgamesh's shoulder. He frowned but didn't flinch.

"Once, you respected the gods. Trust in them, Gilgamesh. Trust in me," she said. Gilgamesh's expression became distant and he shrugged out of her grip.

"I appreciate your council, mother," he said. He turned and left Ninsun's temple. She watched him leave, appearing wistful. She raised her hand as though to stop Gilgamesh, and then let it fall to her side.


	2. Stifled and Pinned Down

_"I never confused what I had with what I was."_

Gilgamesh idled on his throne.

A lion lay curled at his feet. Gilgamesh watched the beast's side rise and fall. Beams of sun granted its wild, glorious mane an ethereal shine. Thick shadows cast a grave profile. Its large paws twitched as it slumbered. Gilgamesh amused himself by trying to imagine what a lion would dream about. Probably eating or fucking. Maybe even both at the same time. Gilgamesh snorted. Then he sighed.

Gilgamesh was bored.

He felt as though he stood at the edge of a precipice. Waiting. Waiting for something he could not name. But that was a ludicrous notion. If he didn't know something, then he could decide a name and make it known. It was his right.

Gilgamesh rested his head in the palm of his hand. His mind circled about his premonitions, and his mother's interpretations. Trying to recall the sense of hope they'd instilled in him, all Gilgamesh felt was apathy. Like still water, tepid and brackish. Bitterness filled his mouth.

Outside, he heard the people of Uruk going about their daily lives. Merchants gathered in the streets to hawk their wares. Construction rang out as builders continued working on Uruk's walls. Sacrifices to the gods filled the air with the scent of burnt animal flesh. Someone was singing a song praising Anu, father god of the sky. The voice rose clear and pure above the mundane monotony surrounding it. Gilgamesh closed his eyes and listened for a moment.

He wondered if the drums would roll today.

…

Ishtar instructed Arturia to seek out some nearby shepherds. They were friendly and more than willing to share their food with Arturia. At first she'd been hesitant; she didn't need to eat, and didn't wish to impose. But they'd insisted and thus Arturia relented. The unleavened bread and dried fruit, washed down with a cup of beer, was simple but filling.

Arturia remembered the meals of her past. Often basic, such as fish and potatoes, but shared in the company of her faithful knights, it had mattered little. She felt a pang of regret.

"Where are you from? I've never seen no one like you before," asked one shepherd.

"North. Far north," Arturia replied.

"A sign from the gods. We been blessed," he decided. "A good omen."

"She kinda looks like Uruk's golden king," said another shepherd. Arturia frowned.

"You know of King Gilgamesh?" she asked. The shepherds exchanged glances.

"Who don't? He's never lost a fight. He taxes every last drop from his people, takes their boys for his armies, humiliates the men, and beds the women," one said. The others were quick to echo him with complaints and anecdotes of their own.

Arturia felt another flare of outrage. Her resolve strengthened. Arturia would bring the arrogant king to his knees. She'd wanted to leave and continue on her path to the walled city, but one of the shepherds convinced her to stay so he could show her the fowl traps he'd cleverly set by a nearby watering hole. But they found the snares uprooted and scattered about.

"Strange," said the shepherd, scratching his head. Arturia felt a sense of foreboding and changed her mind. She requested to stay the night, and they were more than happy to oblige. As darkness fell so did the temperature, a fact that relieved Arturia. It was dry and hot, even near the river, and her clothes were heavy wool designed with Britannia's cold winters in mind. The shepherds had eyed her dress oddly as well, but didn't remark upon it.

They pitched tents and began to cook a hearty dinner. One shepherd, who insisted to Arturia that he could've been a priest if not for the lure of the open plain, sacrificed a goat to Tammuz. Surrounded by the bleating of sheep and goats, Arturia felt another stab of nostalgia. She recalled caring for Sir Ector's livestock in her youth, before becoming king. There had been great satisfaction found in working hard for the animals that needed her. She hadn't missed the smell, however.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. It _was_ a lifetime ago, Arturia supposed. She then had the disconcerting realization that the kingdom of Britannia didn't yet exist, and that anyone living on the isles were likely little more than savages. Arturia banished the uncomfortable thought, to avoid being distracted from the task at hand.

Several of the shepherds offered to share their tent with Arturia. She turned them down, feeling a bit flustered, which left them bemused. They ate a rich vegetable stew and more beer. The shepherds sang, loud and off key, stumbling over one another and occasionally falling apart, overcome with laughter. Arturia was content. If not for the knowledge of King Gilgamesh's tyrannical reign, part of her would've liked to stay with the shepherds.

"I will stand guard," Arturia said as the moon rose and the stars shone. She'd not forgotten her sense of foreboding. The others were tired and didn't take much convincing. Arturia leaned against Excalibur, concealed by her wind magic, and stared out at the dark plains, alone with only the cold heavens for company.

Suddenly Arturia sensed an alien presence. Her keen gaze caught a shade moving within shadows. Tense, Arturia focused. Terror and awe numbed her as she caught sight of a great, unnatural creature's silhouette. It moved closer, emitting a strange noise.

"Show yourself!" Arturia uncovered Excalibur and its brilliant light flooded the area. The hills became awash in gold underneath a silver sky. Ishtar stood there, shielding her face and looking irritated.

"Put that away, fool," she said. Arturia didn't hear, a roaring in her ears, focused on the object in Ishtar's hands.

"That is –."

"Yes." Ishtar smiled smugly and handed over Avalon. It felt like returning home after being gone for far too long. The mythical sheath hummed in Arturia's embrace, warm and comforting, and she had to stem the tide of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "Listen closely, Saber. If you bring Gilgamesh to his lowest, his pride will force him to unleash his ultimate weapon. Be prepared, for it has the power to end the world." Arturia frowned and then nodded, pensive at the notion. She peered past Ishtar. The ominous presence she'd sensed earlier was gone.

"Something was here," Arturia said. Ishtar made a dismissive noise.

"There's only one beast you need concern yourself with taming. Leave the matters of mongrels to another."

…

Gilgamesh sat at the head of the table, observing the marriage feast with lidded eyes. They were outside the Temple of Anu, a priestess droning away like a fly buzzing about a bull's hindquarters. There was a tense undercurrent to the festivities. People ate and talked, occasionally pausing and glancing at their king when they thought he wasn't looking.

But Gilgamesh saw everything.

Disgust curdled in the pit of his stomach. Gilgamesh languidly shook his wine goblet, watching the dark red liquid swirl about. The sun beat down, hot and unrelenting. People tried to enjoy the celebrations, but the unease in their shoulders belied their true feelings. But still they shoveled food in their gaping maws, stray dogs tearing into leftover scraps.

Gilgamesh gazed upon his subjects and loathed them in their entirety.

"… And we thank Ishtar for this sacred union of man and woman…"

 _Yes, let us discuss the sanctity of such union with Ishtar's husband._ Gilgamesh laughed out loud. The priestess quieted and everyone turned to stare at Gilgamesh.

He shook his head and leaned forward.

"Where is the bridegroom? Come forth," Gilgamesh commanded. Silence reigned. Then a ripple as people parted to allow the man unimpeded approach. He was small but had nimble fingers. An artisan. Gilgamesh set down his drink. "Let us celebrate with a bout."

"What? I'm not – my king, I am unworthy," stammered the groom, sweating profusely. His licked his lips. Gilgamesh stood and flexed.

"Of course you are. That matters little. Clear an area." Gilgamesh gestured and there was a flurry of motion as those around him scrambled to set up a wrestling arena. "I am feeling magnanimous, so I shall allow you to start top."

"Thank… thank you, my king. Truly, your generosity knows no bounds," mumbled the groom, seeming resigned. Gilgamesh stifled his irritation, allowing servants to flank him and oil his skin.

It was over almost before it began.

Gilgamesh slammed the small man into the dust, pinning him. Struggling haplessly, the groom squirmed under his vice grip for a split second before going limp. Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed.

"Are you trying to insult me?" he demanded.

"I-I cannot," said the groom.

"You cannot? Cannot what? Put up even the bare minimum effort?" Gilgamesh snapped. "I gift you with my presence and this is how you repay me?"

 _I plan to fuck your would-be wife; does that mean nothing to you?_

"I'm just a – ah!" The man yelped as Gilgamesh tightened his grip to the point of cruelty. Those watching kept their silence, still as statues. Repulsed, the golden king got on his feet and glared at the priestess.

"Prepare the bride. I grow tired of waiting," he said. Gilgamesh's passions were stoked and he required release. The priestess pursed her lips, appearing as though she longed to argue, but kept her counsel to herself.

Gilgamesh turned to stride toward the marriage-house. Then he paused.

A woman stood on the temple steps.

A woman stood on the temple steps, barring his path.

She was small and blonde, garbed in blue. Her eyes were like the waters of the Euphrates; they brimmed and churned with righteous anger. She looked young but had an ancient stare.

"You dare stand in my way?" Gilgamesh asked, almost in disbelief. A strange sensation coiled in his gut.

"I have come to stop you," she said simply.

Gilgamesh was sure he'd misheard. Puzzled, he tilted his head. Then he smiled, raking his eyes down her body. Clairvoyance granted Gilgamesh a flash of insight. He threw back his head and laughed. It was a terrible and empty sound, lingering in the unbearable heat.

"This is the one the gods sent to oppose me? Have you all finally lost your minds?!" Gilgamesh doubled over. "Have you forgotten who I am? A little girl intends to challenge my sovereignty? What a ludicrous notion! Indeed, what an absolute farce! I should –!"

Gilgamesh cut himself off as a powerful surge of magic stood his hair on end. Silver armor encased the woman, her expression hard. She drew an invisible sword from its sheath, brandishing it at him.

"I have come to change the old order. I denounce your claim as king. All I see is a petty man lording his power over those under him," she said. The people milled about and murmured, their dissent a low undertone in the background. Gilgamesh straightened and smirked.

"And what makes you think you have such a right, foreigner? How can you be so arrogant to come into my city and make such claims before my subjects?" Gilgamesh asked. She darkened.

"For one such as you to claim arrogance of others… I speak as one who is also king. Who understands that monarchy is a duty, an obligation, and now it is mine to relieve you yours, for I deny you, Gilgamesh, and all you stand for," said the female so-called king. Offended, Gilgamesh summoned his golden armor. His radiance was blinding, and many in the growing crowd gasped and turned away. He leapt over the false king, landing on the flat roof of a nearby building, and glared down at her.

"I am the one and only king of Uruk. Son of Lugalbanda and Rimat-Ninsun, two-thirds god and one-third man. You will die for daring to imply otherwise. I have humored your impudence to this point, girl, for I found it amusing uttered from such fair lips, but no more." Gilgamesh crossed his arms. She stared back at him, expression steady and determined. Intuition told Gilgamesh that he would enjoy crushing this woman, and he grinned, waiting for her to make the first move.

He wanted to see what she could do.


	3. Unstoppable Force Meets Immovable Object

A/N: Friendly PSA: when fighting someone to the death, wear a helmet.

...

...

 _..._

 _"When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible."_

Arturia glared up at Gilgamesh.

Even the simple act of positioning himself atop the roof, above her, was a move that brimmed with arrogance. It aggravated Arturia's pride and sensibilities; her lip threatened to curl in disgust. She kept her emotions locked down, clutching Excalibur and waiting. The growing crowd whispered and thronged around them, but kept a reasonable distance.

"Look how small she is!"

"What a foolish woman! How quickly will the king kill her, do you think?"

"King Gilgamesh does enjoy playing with his prey, so I'd bet several minutes, rather than seconds."

"Look at that strange weapon of hers, though. Look at her stance, look at how she holds herself. I'll wager several minutes further."

Out of the corner of her eye, Arturia saw a line of guards gather. They held back, although their eyes were fixed on their king. More of Gilgamesh's hateful laughter rang out. He was still considering her, his red gaze bright. Arturia gritted her teeth.

"Do you intend to arm yourself?!" Arturia called out, unable to bear it any longer. Gilgamesh tilted his head and grinned.

"Against a little girl? What for?" he taunted. Temper flaring, Arturia allowed Ishtar's immense mana to flood her. The ground beneath her feet groaned and cracked as Arturia hurtled toward Gilgamesh. She skipped up the side of the building and lashed out with Excalibur. Letting out a startled shout, Gilgamesh scrambled backward; the invisible blade cut off several fine strands of his pale hair. Arturia closed him down, sword raised with the intent of separating his head from his body.

Gilgamesh dove aside as she drove Excalibur into the roof. Made of clay and woven reeds, it was rent apart from the force of her blow. She collapsed into the house, and people shouted and screamed around her. Brushing herself off, Arturia ignored them as they scrambled away, turning to face Gilgamesh. He was perched outside the impromptu hole she'd just fashioned, touching his hair and looking disconcerted.

"You will regret that," he told her. Not bothering with a response, Arturia leapt at him. Gilgamesh met her, grabbing Excalibur with his armored hands. Her eyes widened.

Did her already discern Excalibur's length –? Arturia's thoughts were scattered when Gilgamesh jerked, wrenching her blade out of her grip, and jammed his shoulder into her chest. Her armor dulled the force of the blow, but Arturia gasped as he twisted and hurled her off the house. She righted herself in midair, landing with a thump. Moments later Gilgamesh crashed into her, knocking the wind out of Arturia.

They grappled for a moment. Gilgamesh was strong, strong as a bull, and attempted to wrestle Arturia into a headlock. But she was a master of close combat. Arching her back, Arturia then twisted, breaking Gilgamesh's hold and flipping him over. He looked legitimately shocked before shoving his knee into Arturia's stomach and pushing her off. They stumbled apart and sprang to their feet, breathing hard and circling each other.

Arturia wiped at her face and saw blood spotting her gauntlet. She'd split her lip in the tussle. Or had it been the fall? She supposed it didn't matter. A warm sensation filled her as Avalon healed the injury. Excalibur needed to be retrieved. But it was in the house behind her, and Arturia didn't dare turn her back on Gilgamesh. He narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Arturia suppressed her irritation. She supposed, by her honor as King of Knights, she was required to inform him.

"I'm King Arturia of Britannia," she said. Gilgamesh's expression became puzzled.

"I have heard of no such place," Gilgamesh said.

"So it mustn't exist?" Arturia retorted. She was being unfair; Britannia truly did not exist, yet. But everything about Gilgamesh angered her, and she felt duty-bound to try and puncture his inflated ego. Gilgamesh smirked.

"Naturally." He folded his arms. "Fetch your weapon." Arturia bristled and didn't move, glaring at him. Gilgamesh laughed. "Are you so proud, little false king?"

"I am a king," Arturia snapped.

"There is only one worthy of the title 'king', and he stands before you." Gilgamesh appeared amused. "Perhaps I shall let you live and keep you as a pet. You have provided me more entertainment in a few moments than a hundred banal festivals."

Arturia's hands clenched into fists. Jaw locked, she stepped away and eased into the house she'd wrecked earlier. She could feel the fearful gazes of the family on her back as she searched through the rubble for Excalibur. Arturia released the wind magic hiding the blade. If Gilgamesh already figured out its length then there wasn't much use to masking it. And it wasn't as though she needed to conceal her identity.

Arturia paused at the thought. There was something freeing in that realization. A weight vanished from her chest, and she straightened, flourishing Excalibur. It glowed gold, and awe reflected in the eyes of those watching her. Arturia slipped outside and saw Gilgamesh had armed himself with a giant axe. He flexed and let it rest over his shoulders, grinning at her.

Before Arturia had the chance to showcase her disdain, Gilgamesh sprinted at her and swung his axe in a wide arc. She raised Excalibur, parrying his strike. The sheer power behind his blow numbed her arms, sparks flying as iron met steel. Arturia riposted, forcing Gilgamesh to put distance between them, and noted the chip in his weapon's edge. Excalibur glittered in the hot sunlight and Gilgamesh eyed it.

"Yes, I think I will place it next to Vimana, a bit to the right," he decided. Arturia refused to rise to his ribbing. She needed Gilgamesh to commit to a massive attack; an axe was a weapon that could inflict immense damage, but also left the wielder open to the counter. Wiping the sweat dripping down her brow, Arturia flicked the tip of her sword.

"You'll have to pry it from my dead hands, first," she told him. Gilgamesh smirked. Then he engaged her once more.

They traded blows, a dance of utmost concentration. The first to falter would be the first to fall. This was the type of situation where Arturia thrived; a one-on-one close quarters fight between two warriors. And for all Gilgamesh's vices, his strength and ability was undeniable. And yet, the longer they clashed, the more confident Arturia became in her inevitable victory.

She was better at dueling than him.

Arturia could see this truth reflected in Gilgamesh's red stare, as well as a growing disbelief, a refusal on the part of his ego to accept the reality of her proficiency. His swings became wild as Gilgamesh sought to overwhelm her through brute force, battering his axe against her superior weapon.

There. A wind-up for a fearsome strike that could pulverize her bones if it connected head on. She twisted away, deflected aside, and lashed out, aiming to pierce Gilgamesh's black heart. Terror stripped him of his arrogant expression as he visibly realized his error; he bared his teeth at her like a snarling dog.

There was a surge of magical energy. Something large and heavy blindsided Arturia. All the air was expelled from her lungs as a bronze statue careened into her. Arturia collapsed under the weight, stunned.

Her ribs cracked and lancing pain left her dazed. It took her instinctual sense of preservation to shove the statue aside. Avalon's healing strength flowed through Arturia, and she scrambled to her feet, coughing blood. It dribbled down her chin and stained her clothes purple. Gilgamesh glowered at her, white faced. The people were deathly silent as well, the surrounding atmosphere stifled by the shock of revelation. Arturia felt true, pure anger, eyes flashing as she steadied herself.

"How dare you," Gilgamesh spat out.

"How dare I? How dare I?" Arturia shouted. "Do you know nothing of honor?! Cheat, scoundrel, coward!"

"Silence!" Gilgamesh shouted back. "I will not be humiliated by the likes of a pretender! I will not allow it!"

Behind him, a golden portal formed, rippling, reflective, somewhere between a solid and a liquid. In it, Arturia could see thousands of priceless treasures. Weapons, vehicles, ornaments, accessories, furniture, and more. So many wondrous gifts. Inert, soulless objects.

Arturia raised Excalibur and marshalled her strength. The blade burned with holy light, casting the rest of the world in shadow. She set her feet shoulder width apart and concentrated all of Ishtar's considerable mana into one great strike. Arturia should've known better than to expect honor from a tyrant. She would smite this stain on humanity off the face of the earth.

Understanding dawned in Gilgamesh's red eyes. He twitched, glanced behind him, and then dropped his axe and snickered.

"Excalibur!" Arturia exclaimed. There was a great roar and a rush of divine energy as Arturia released her Noble Phantasm's true might. She was blinded for a brief moment, a gentle breeze ruffling her sweat soaked bangs. Then it faded and Arturia's hand fell from where it had shielded her face.

Arturia blinked. No longer was she on the dusty streets of Uruk, but instead she was inside the treasury she'd spied through the portal. Her Noble Phantasm had cut a great swath through gilded halls overflowing with untold riches. Once orderly rows were decimated, and that which had survived Arturia's assault lay strewn about and disorganized. Gilgamesh stood off to the side of the wanton carnage, holding a half melted goblet. He didn't look at her.

"I misjudged you," Gilgamesh said. "You are worthy."

Gilgamesh rose before Arturia could respond. An ornate key replaced the goblet. In unison, Gilgamesh's treasures rose and swirled about him. The hair on the nape of Arturia's neck stood up. Something terrible and powerful was being summoned. She recalled Ishtar's warning. Arturia tightened her grip on Excalibur. She needed to stop whatever Gilgamesh was attempting.

Arturia started to move toward him, and then leapt aside as a pair of blades launched themselves at her, driving into the ceramic floor an inch from her foot. They quivered in place. Arturia's expression turned set and resolute. Gilgamesh silently observed her. He'd shed the upper portion of his golden armor, and vivid red tattoos stretched across the planes of his taut skin and bulging muscles. Unreleased energy crackled as cuneiform inscriptions burned the air.

She charged Gilgamesh. Weapons flew at her, and she deflected what she could. Several pierced her defenses, and that which made it past her armor she ripped out. Avalon allowed her to push forward despite numerous grievous injuries. She bore down upon Gilgamesh.

A strange sword formed in Gilgamesh's grip. It was so absurd as to defy the fabric of reality itself, and the pocket dimension trembled and shook, bearing witness to its majesty. Black and red and gold danced before her, ephemeral and eternal, dull tipped and yet so sharp it hewed the very heavens. Its mere presence was an unbearable weight, attempting to push and grind Arturia into dust.

Her grip slackened on Excalibur, and a stray plate knocked the blade out of her hands. Part of Arturia considered conceding. The weapon Gilgamesh wielded was far beyond her capabilities. But the dragon within craned its neck and roared, declaring protest. She recalled the faces of the golden king's people; the scared eyes of those oppressed by one who put himself first and foremost.

 _I will never yield._

The confident smirk on Gilgamesh's fair features turned incredulous, as Arturia gathered her strength and threw herself at him in one last ditch effort, the desperation of one with nothing to lose granting her wings. He began to jab his sword at her, mouth forming the word "Ea", and she whipped out Avalon and blocked his strike. Her free gauntlet formed a fist, and she struck Gilgamesh with it.

The world became unmade and reborn in an instant.

 _She lay in a bed of reeds._

 _The world was a dome, divided by the waters of the sky and the waters of the sea. She watched as they parted and the divine floodgates poured over the earth and drowned it._

 _Who are you?_

 _I am nameless._

 _He called you Ea._

 _And they called you Arthur, in your time. But now you are a reed wall._

 _What are you?_

 _A trick. Only the gods are eternal._

Arturia woke lying flat on her back, _st_ aring up at Uruk's gentle blue sky. Britannia could be found under the same sky, she mused, even if it was not yet what it would become (a broken shell destroyed by her foolishness). She became aware of a spear protruding from her stomach. Excalibur was beside her, but Avalon's very existence had vanished. Once again, she was incomplete.

Drained of mana and hazy with pain, Arturia could only watch as Gilgamesh loomed over her. A purplish-black bruise marred over half his face, an ugly wound inflicted by the intensity of their conflict. His red eyes gleamed and when he smiled, blood stained his shattered teeth. The guards began to close in as Arturia's vision faded away.

She must've started to dream, because the last thing she thought she saw was Gilgamesh collapse backward. His choked, sputtering laughter echoed, mingling with her remembrance of the terrible hill that haunted her, a joyous noise akin to relief.


	4. Weight of the World

_She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum."_

Someone was holding her hand.

As Arturia returned to consciousness, she became aware of the fingers interlocked with her own. They were warm and strong, and the sensation rather strange. Feeling removed from the situation, as though experiencing it from a long distance away, Arturia tried to recall when someone had last touched her in such a tender, familiar fashion.

Memories of Camelot blurred and mixed together, dripping into one another with little rhyme or reason. The only thing she could remember with absolute clarity was the carnage of the hill. It swallowed everything else in its wake, a blight she couldn't shake.

"It appears she stirs."

"Of course. I would never permit her to pass."

She knew that voice. Arturia grimaced and shifted. Her eyes cracked open. Baked brick coated in lime was the first thing she saw. Vivid images painted the walls, and she intuited from the-knowledge-that-wasn't-her-own that they depicted a festival.

Then Arturia locked eyes with Gilgamesh. His crimson gaze made her think of the rivers of Egypt when they ran red with blood in Exodus. She thought the term 'plague' was a fitting one for the King of Uruk. He leaned over her, seated bedside, his thumbs idly tracing circles around her knuckles. Arturia's expression hardened and she glowered at him. Gilgamesh laughed.

"But how overjoyed she is to see me?" He grinned. Becoming aware that they were not alone, Arturia noted the woman beside Gilgamesh. She was astoundingly beautiful, with long hair that shone a green sheen, like a glossy leaf in the sun. She returned Arturia's stare, her tranquil expression stirred by flickering curiosity. She wore the garb of a priestess, and on her wrist was the tattoo of a star.

"How do you feel?" asked the girl. Arturia licked her cracked lips but refused to answer. She felt sore and drained, but any wounds she'd sustained during the fight after losing Avalon appeared to have been healed. Recalling the sensation of a spear in her gut, Arturia blanched. The girl smiled. "Yes, you garnered some rather grievous injuries. You have remarkable fortitude, however. The gods smile upon you, I think."

"Leave us." Gilgamesh looked annoyed. Arturia watched her stand, prostrate before her king, and exit. "Shamhat." She paused at the entrance, glancing back at them. "You did well."

"Truly, I will treasure the compliment always," Shamhat said. This seemed to mollify Gilgamesh, and he relaxed. Once Shamhat had fully departed, he returned to staring at Arturia.

"Will you not converse with me?" he asked. Arturia's mouth formed a thin, stubborn line. Gilgamesh shrugged, untangling one hand from her own. He absently touched her face, tracing the outline of her cheekbones with a light, trailing digit. "Your features are exotic to me. Paler than the northern people of Nippur, harsher than the warriors of Ur, and yet more refined than the priests of Eridu –."

Arturia grabbed his hand in a steel grip. She could feel his pulse in his wrist, beating against her palm. She said, "Don't touch me."

"She speaks!" Gilgamesh looked delighted. "And that is a rather difficult edict to follow, given that you have trapped me."

He sounded amused, and no wonder, Arturia bitterly contemplated. Of the two, he was not the one trapped. She let go, watching him slink back in his seat. He didn't wear a shirt, beautiful golden trinkets the only thing to decorate him above his torso. He smelled of pomegranates. Gilgamesh clinked and glittered every time he moved, displaying his wealth and good looks with a casual hubris that made Arturia bite the inside of her cheek.

After a pause in which she wrested and brought her simmering anger under control, Arturia asked, "Why do I still live?"

"To kill you without knowing you would have been the greatest tragedy the world has ever witnessed." Gilgamesh seemed disconcerted by the very notion. "I have deemed you worthy to be my friend."

"I have no wish to be your friend." The mere thought enraged her. "You humiliate me by letting me live. Just end it and be done with this farce."

Gilgamesh didn't appear to have anticipated such a response. He blinked, startled, and then ran a hand through his hair. He stared up at the ceiling and then looked back down at Arturia. Gilgamesh smiled. "You are still recovering. I will grant you reprieve and time to return to your senses."

Arturia bristled at the supercilious tone. But as Gilgamesh left, she felt an unnatural lethargy overtake her. Her lids grew heavy as she sank into the realm of dreams. Once again the world grew dark.

 _It was the dead of night. Moonlight streamed through the opening in the wall. Arturia watched as Ishtar vaulted into bed and straddled her. Ishtar's golden gaze glinted with mild irritation._

" _Must you make things difficult?" Ishtar asked, digging her knee into Arturia's stomach, where the memory of the spear still pierced her. Gritting her teeth, Arturia was silent at first._

" _I thought I was supposed to kill Gilgamesh," she said. Ishtar laughed._

" _In his own time, among his own people? Do not be absurd. Besides, if the other gods allowed it, I would kill him myself. But, alas, he has the favor of both Shamash and Ea. Therefore, such an event will never come to pass." Ishtar fell silent, considering her servant._

 _Arturia realized, then, what her purpose had always been. Her stomach twisted and she frowned. "I am ill-suited for this task. Besides, I find Gilgamesh abhorrent." The goddess of love and war softened._

" _You are not alone. A man so brazen in displaying his ego is a disgusting sight. However, you unwittingly have Gilgamesh half-wrapped around your finger as it is, Saber. Use your influence to blunt his tyranny toward his subjects," Ishtar said._

 _The words were an arrow to Arturia's heart. She thought of a bible verse, one of many burned into her brain as a child._

 _ **On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head."**_

 _The people of Uruk were not her people. But, perhaps, she could save them as she could not save her own. She would take them under her wing and bear Gilgamesh's cruelty in their place. Arturia became enamored with the idea; her eyes grew misty at the possibility of redemption. Failure was all she had ever known. But this time, maybe this time it would be different. She would defy her fate and save them. It was a wonderful thought, a chivalrous and honorable pursuit, and her breath caught._

 _Ishtar laughed._

" _You are a curious soul," she touched Arturia's face, "I could not have chosen better. But, while I do not doubt you, I will regardless Command you thus: stay by Gilgamesh's side, parted only by death."_

 _The Command Seal glowed and weight settled around Arturia's neck like a golden cross._

Arturia woke up. Shamhat had returned, and was in the process of placing a cool piece of cloth over her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" Shamhat questioned. Arturia blinked. She opened and closed her mouth.

"I'll live," she said. Then Arturia felt a rush of energy. Mana flowed through her veins like liquid fire. The air crackled with unreleased power. Shamat smiled and tucked Arturia's bangs behind her ear. It was a kind, motherly gesture, and the King of Knights felt a rush of gratitude toward the other girl. "Could you fetch Gilgamesh?"

"I do not think that would end well." Shamat seemed mildly uncomfortable. Then she giggled. "But I can inform him that you request his presence."

"Thank you," Arturia said. Shamhat stood and hesitated.

"I witnessed your fight. It felt as though the world was born anew seven times in the wake of your struggle with my king." A pause. "You were very brave."

For the first time, Arturia smiled. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Gilgamesh to return. When he entered, he raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

"What do you wish of me?" Arturia asked. Gilgamesh blinked.

"Nothing," he said. Arturia frowned at him. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Gilgamesh tilted his head to the side and considered her. "Shamhat says you are a ghost of Ishtar."

Arturia's surprise must have shown. Clarifying, Gilgamesh said, "Shamhat belongs to the temple of Ishtar, and has her favor." He made a strange face. "She knows many things."

"… I am not aware of the specifics." Arturia mulled over Gilgamesh's explanation. There was an odd vagueness to his statements that unsettled her. "But I come from another time, from an island far, far north. Ishtar used a great and terrible magic to bring me here."

"Truly?" Gilgamesh looked enchanted by the thought. He smirked. "Only I would be worthy of such a priceless treasure."

Arturia held her tongue, folding her arms.

"Such a paradox makes the matter of your supposed kingship more palatable, as well," Gilgamesh mused out loud. "I shall allow your sovereignty to stand." This was too much for Arturia, and she scowled.

"You don't decide such matters," she snapped. "I'm a king whether you allow it or not."

"What a stubborn woman." Gilgamesh's brow knitted. He briefly turned annoyed, before he grinned a smug grin. Arturia restrained herself from decking him. It occurred to her, then, that Gilgamesh's injuries from their fight had healed. His hair fell about his face, softly framing it, and he once more appeared flawless and untouched. She found she preferred his face in its marred state. It matched the contents of his soul far better. Then Gilgamesh surprised her. "And how does Uruk compare to your own kingdom?"

Quiet, Arturia considered his question. Her eyes flickered, taking in the walls of baked brick once more. Contrasted to the cold grey stone of Britannia, she could easily have been in another world all together.

"I cannot say." Arturia stared at the ground, forlorn. Gilgamesh knelt, forcing himself into her peripheral, and cocked his head.

"Then let me show you my great city, so you can." He extended an expectant hand. Arturia looked at Gilgamesh. Brushing him aside, she got to her feet. She felt fine, energetic even. Gilgamesh laughed and stood. He walked out of the recovery room, and Arturia followed in his wake.


	5. Of Mongrels and Men

_"We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it."_

Gilgamesh led Arturia out of the palace, out and up. They ascended the steeples of the city to walk the perimeter of Uruk's walls. She followed him, a second shadow, her expression veiled.

He observed Arturia. She was short but stocky in build. Her pale skin rippled with muscles born from a hard life. Gilgamesh liked that about her. It refreshed him, a change of pace from the willowy women of Uruk. Arturia still wore that heavy blue dress, and Gilgamesh made a note to get her cooler garb when he had the chance. Sweat slid down her temple, but she kept silent and refused to voice her complaints. Gilgamesh liked that, too, even if it was foolish stubbornness.

They crested the wall, and Uruk spread before them like an eager lover. Pride filled Gilgamesh, and he beamed at her as they walked. Arturia stayed quiet, taking in the city of clay. Elegant ziggurats rose above everything else, presiding over the simple homes of his people. Canals looped through gates in the wall, bringing precious water to Uruk's thirsty lips. He watched her stare trace the elaborate irrigation system – the levees, the locks, the drainage – and, although she tried to hide it, Gilgamesh knew Arturia was impressed.

He decided to speak, then. Gilgamesh had a hunch Arturia would never talk, if she could avoid conversation. He proclaimed, "Behold, my greatest treasure."

Gilgamesh turned his back on Uruk, his heels hanging over the edge of the wall, his arms thrown out wide. The sun set his golden jewelry ablaze, and he burned with divine light. Arturia's eyes flicked over his bared torso, and then she dropped her gaze askance. Gilgamesh smirked, which seemed to rile her further.

"Are you always so careless with your so-called _treasures_?" Arturia asked. Gilgamesh frowned, recalling how she had trashed his neat, organized treasury with her wonderful sword. Chaos had its own beauty, however. He'd decided this while she recovered, and thus came to terms with the discrepancy.

"It is mine to do with as I wish," he said. The topic broached was one Gilgamesh could tell mattered a great deal to Arturia. He decided to be magnanimous and offer her an opening, which she took without hesitation.

"You would claim a city full of human beings as a possessions?" Arturia's green eyes flashed. Gilgamesh grinned.

"Well, yes, that is what I just said." It entertained him, to watch her grow so passionate.

He still couldn't quite discern _why_ she cared so much, but he would figure that out in time. Everything about Arturia wasn't made immediately obvious to Gilgamesh, and that excited him. He looked forward to learning her. Friends did that, right? Gilgamesh had no idea, and the thrill of the unknown intoxicated him.

"People are not things to be used and discarded. How can you call yourself a king?" Arturia snapped. For the first time, Gilgamesh felt irritated. Once again she was questioning his sovereignty, which he didn't appreciate in the slightest.

"Quite easily." His tone became tetchy. "You could do better?" That got Arturia to clam up. Gilgamesh forgot his annoyance, taken aback by the response. They continued their walk about the wall. Arturia seemed lost in thought, her expression melancholic and clouded. Then it cleared.

"… I could hardly do worse," she said after the a long, awkward moment passed. Gilgamesh blinked, unable to take such a _ringing_ endorsement seriously. He half-wondered if she was playing a joke on him.

They spied a group of people atop the roof of their house chanting toward the sky. The people burned offerings and begged the gods for blessings. Many sons, a good harvest, and a river that neither ran dry nor flooded. It was a benediction Gilgamesh could recite in his sleep. He felt discontent, briefly, and forced his attention back to Arturia.

"My people flourish. They have never known true hardship," Gilgamesh said. "They give me everything, and I, in turn, provide for them. How have I failed?"

"By ruling through might, by being selfish." Arturia looked furious, two twin, red dots highlighting her pale cheeks. "It's not right." Gilgamesh was puzzled, then. She spoke of concepts that were foreign to him.

"Not right? What does that even mean? Two lefts instead of three?" He was kidding, but Arturia didn't seem to realize it, and glowered at him.

"You're not clever," she said through gritted teeth. Gilgamesh begged to differ, but let the matter drop. He hoped Arturia appreciated how lenient his reactions were. Anyone else would've died a thousand times, to address him in such a manner.

"This is about the wedding ceremony?" he asked, sighing a little through his nose.

"It's about principle!" Arturia shouted. "About doing that which is good and just, not only that which benefits _you_. But, yes, it would be an _excellent_ start to not _ruin_ a sacred ritual with your _petty_ urges." She'd stopped, twitching as though she longed to lunge at him.

"No one ever contested the issue to my face," Gilgamesh complained. "They all waited until my back was turned, in the safety of their home, whining of their discontent. Why should I reward such cowardly behavior?"

Now Arturia became exasperated, and said, "Even if you did not kill them for making their grievances known – and I wouldn't put that past you – it shouldn't be the job of your people to be your moral guide." Gilgamesh was beginning to understand. He ignored the first part of her statement.

"You seem rather hung up on morality," he said, and then cut her off when Arturia tried to speak. "I am more concerned with reality; that which is true, and that which is not. My subjects know this."

Arturia scoffed.

"Oh, please. And these truths revolve around fucking men's brides, I imagine?" she asked. Gilgamesh opened and closed his mouth, taken aback by the crass language. He then recovered and threw back his head, laughing heartily. Arturia was wonderful, Gilgamesh decided, and he was glad they were friends. The gods had chosen well.

"If it bothers you so much, then I shall stop," Gilgamesh said, warm and congenial.

"The – that is not the _point_!" Arturia spluttered, turning even redder.

"Does it matter?" Gilgamesh asked.

"Yes!" Arturia grew more agitated still, pacing back and forth. He followed her with his eyes, amused. This he wanted to hear. "Whether or not it _bothers_ me shouldn't be a factor. You never should have done it in the first place, but now that you have, you must repent and realize that you were in the wrong."

"I cannot be wrong." Gilgamesh dismissed the notion. He thought, then, that Arturia might implode. It was quite adorable, in Gilgamesh's opinion. She paused and her face hardened, returning to its inscrutable mask. She took a deep, even breath.

"You're impossible," she said. "Next you'll tell me the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, and say it's so because you declared it such."

"I am not delusional, Arturia." He chuckled. "I would only make such a statement if it were true."

She lapsed back into silence, clearly frustrated. Arturia's brow was drawn, her aquamarine eyes brooding and angry. Gilgamesh wished she would calm down, but wasn't yet sure how to assuage her temper. He cast about for a topic that wasn't as upsetting for her.

"You promise to stop harassing couples? On your honor?" Arturia asked, soft and tired.

Gilgamesh considered her, frowning. It occurred to him that perhaps they had different meanings in mind for different words. A result of the passage of time that separated them? The possibility displeased Gilgamesh. If they could not communicate properly, how could they ever understand one another?

"… Yes," he said, because it was simple and he meant it. He didn't need _them_ to provide some minor modicum of enjoyment when he had Arturia. Gilgamesh took a seat, long legs dangling over the wall's ledge. He placed his elbows on his knees and watched his subjects mill about below him.

After a pause, she joined him, easing to his side. He could feel her gaze on him, considering him. He asked, "Now that you have seen more of Uruk, how does it compare to your future kingdom?"

"They are very different," Arturia said. "Much of my time as king was spent fighting war after war, in an effort to prevent Britannia from splitting apart at the seams."

There was an underlying bitterness to her words. Gilgamesh leaned back, staring at the sky. Blue, bright blue, of a hue like Arturia's garments. Perhaps he'd try to find her a dress of a similar color. It brought out the azure flecks in her agate eyes.

"You speak as though you know of your kingdom's fate," Gilgamesh said idly. He heard her move.

"Yes. Your gods brought me here as my life – and my kingdom's – came to an end." The bitterness was unmistakable now. He jerked and stared at her, startled.

"You are well and truly dead? What is it like?!" Gilgamesh straightened, watching Arturia with keen interest. Two paradoxes, now. A warrior of the future, dwelling in the past. A shade of death, standing amongst the living. The gods granted him a priceless gift indeed. He had a sudden, clever realization.

"I couldn't say." Arturia's expression was blank, her hands balled into fists. "I was spirited away on the brink of dying."

"So, then, you are a once and future king, yes?" Gilgmash grinned, although he was also a bit disappointed. Arturia shot him an odd look, her lips twitching. Delighted by the almost smile, he returned his gaze to the streets below, humming under his breath.

A couple of dogs ran amok, chased by children waving their arms about. One had a rock or some similar projectile and hurled it at a straggling cur. Gilgamesh couldn't hear the strike, but he watched it stumble from impact. Dust scattered as it staggered and scrambled toward elusive freedom. He noticed Arturia observing the same scene, her hands digging into fistfuls of wool, her mouth once again a flat line. Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

"I pity them, you know," he said. Gilgamesh heard her shift, the soft rustle of fabric brushing against skin.

"The children?" she asked.

"What? No. The dogs, of course. They allow themselves to be chased by small, weak humans, because they are blinded by fear. It drives them onward, when, if they stopped running and turned to face their enemy head on, the children's courage would break and they would be the ones to scatter." Gilgamesh watched with interest at the hunt moved to the back alleys, almost herded there by irritated but apathetic adults.

"Someone should stop them," Arturia said. Implying that _they_ should intervene, Gilgamesh supposed. He smirked.

"Why must we be their moral guide? Is that not the job of their parents?" he asked, and snorted at her irritated reaction. "It really is a pity, though. They will be chased and chased and chased by their fear, until they are cornered, and then…" Gilgamesh snapped his fingers. "And then it is too late. Who will suffer the consequences? Certainly not the children. A dog that bites at the hand of its master is worthless."

As he spoke, Arturia's anger drained away. Her eyes dulled, her shoulders hunched, and she seemed very small, all of a sudden, as though the heavy chains of the world were constricting her and dragging her down into the mud and filth. Gilgamesh was going to say more, but the sight stole his breath. She looked so _sad._ She looked so –

 _Beautiful_.

He reached out to touch her. To, he wasn't sure what, to reassure her? To mock her? To comfort her? To let her know, in a single gesture, that there was also something enviable about something that could only fear, hate, and love absolutely and unconditionally, even if it was born out of ignorance. That while the plight of the dogs was to be pitied, at least it wasn't one to be disgusted by, something that could not be said about the children that pursued them or those in the vicinity whose passivity let it happen. The pads of his fingertips grazed her soft, flaxen bangs.

Arturia jerked, knocking his hand aside, and her sorrow faded, replaced by a glare. She said, "I told you not to touch me."

"I forgot," Gilgamesh responded blithely. Her scowl deepened, brow furrowed. She would get wrinkles if she kept that up, he mused. He didn't get her aversion to physicality – everything Arturia did seemed rooted in the physical, for all her proclamations concerning the spiritual. He had a feeling they would understand one another far better if she let him explain himself without words. "You would enjoy it, you know."

"I doubt that," Arturia said, her voice low and dangerous. She was blushing again, though, albeit faintly. Gilgamesh grinned.

"Oh? You prefer the company of women?" he asked. That caught her off guard, and now she was definitely blushing. Gilgamesh was surprised by the reaction, to be honest. Perhaps he would speak to Shamhat, maybe she could help Arturia relax.

"No, that's not – I don't – who I _prefer_ is none of your damn business," Arturia snapped. She stood. "I'm going down there." _To stop them_. She looked at Gilgamesh, as though daring him to block her path. If she wanted him to play the role of a villain, she would be disappointed. He leaned back and shrugged.

"Do as you wish."

…

 _Gilgamesh dreamt he held a kid to his breast. White with brown spots. It bleated as he strode atop the hill, sun shining upon his glorious armor._

 _Before him stretched a great forest. Ten thousand leagues in every direction. Leaves trembled as a terrible roar shook the cedar trees to their roots. A great evil moved, and the world quailed in its presence. He watched with bated breath as the forest parted to reveal –_

Gilgamesh woke up. One of his slaves stirred and rolled over. Running a hand through his hair, Gilgamesh turned to stare at the wall, as though he could burn a hole in the next room, where Arturia slumbered. He would've liked her in his bed instead, but he wouldn't force her. That wasn't what friends did. He knew that much, at least.

After a moment Gilgamesh sighed and went back to sleep.


	6. Feast for Two

_"Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with lips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are. And the more you wage war."_

 _"What does the farmer have that I do not?"_

 _Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. Bright with desire. Lust, burning, blazing lust, roaring like a bonfire._

 _"The farmer gives flax for my clothes, grows barley for my table."_

 _She stood before him, her chin jutted out in defiance. Her golden gaze flashed._

 _"Then I will give you white wool," he replied. "If he gives you beer, I will give you sweet milk."_

 _The sun glittered above their heads, a silent sentinel. They faced each other, man and woman, and although neither moved, both were dancing._

 _She wore a royal white robe, and anointed herself with scented oils. She smelled of summer and rain. He stood before her in plain clothes, worn from roaming the world with his herd. He smelled of spring and loam. In his grip, a frosted glass of ice cold milk._

 _"Shepherd. Without my mother, you would be driven away. Without my father, you would have no roof. Without my brother…"_

 _"Do not start a quarrel," he said. "My family is equal to yours. Drink the milk of Tammuz and know this."_

 _He stepped forward and she looked at him with murder in her stare. But when he held the cup to her lips, she drank, and her eyes widened as he eased her robe open._

 _The milk overflowed, cascaded down her chin, down her neck, down between her breasts, down her stomach, down her legs, and down onto the ground. Where it dripped, plants sprouted, growing and curling around the two. She knocked the glass out of his hand and pulled him close. She kissed him deeply and he caressed her jet black locks._

 _The overgrowth thickened, shielding them from view. There was a low moan –_

A rustle woke Arturia.

She sat up, wide eyed and breathing heavy, her pupils blown open. Beads of sweat stood out on her brow. There was a clatter and Arturia twitched, now on edge for an entirely different reason.

But it was only a servant. Young and male, his face still round with baby fat. It took Arturia a split second to realize he was speaking.

"What?" she asked.

"Ah, ah, um, I am sorry, your ladyship! King Gilgamesh wanted me to deliver some breakfast but not disturb you and I failed, please do not –."

"It's fine." It wasn't fine. She felt too warm, too taut, too tense. She wanted to lunge at him and rip his clothes off. That fact made her feel all the more off kilter. "Just – just, leave me."

The servant scrambled to comply, backing out of the room, bowing and stammering inane apologies. Once he left, Arturia pressed the heel of her palm against the socket of her eye and sighed.

The dream had been about Ishtar. She supposed it was a result of their connection. Arturia probably should've expected erotic visions, given that her master was the goddess of _love_ , but she still felt thrown for a loop.

Arturia fell back onto her bed. She'd changed into a simple shift, unable to bear the thought of trying to sleep in her regular garments. Not that she would ever let Gilgamesh know, although he no doubt would figure it out. He was annoyingly perceptive, a silver tongue accompanying his golden visage.

It wasn't fair, Arturia mused, grousing somewhat. That someone could be born athletic, handsome, intelligent, and well-spoken, and still manage to be an out-of-touch egomaniac. Then again, she supposed that was the most dangerous kind of person.

Arturia's arms fell to her sides, and she stared at the ceiling. Her heartrate began to return to normal, her breathing no longer erratic. Her cunt ached, begging for release, but Arturia refrained from giving into temptation. She'd never defiled herself before, and she wasn't about to start now. The day she became king, she'd forsworn all mundane pleasures. The only sex Arturia ever participated in had been strictly to fulfill her duties and obligations, except –.

She didn't want to think about that.

Arturia tried to focus. A plan. She needed a plan. But, if she was honest, she felt lost. Her entire life and purpose was defined by her desire to protect and rule Britannia. Now she was here, trapped in the past, in a strange land with a strange king, whose ideals were so far removed from her own they might as well be on opposite planes of existence. Arturia had decided to shield the people of Uruk, but she didn't even know where to begin in that regard.

On the edge of her peripheral vision, Arturia noticed the tray of food the servant left for her. She got to her feet and approached her breakfast with a critical eye. Bread, cheese, and a cup of wine sat there. Arturia was more of a beer person, and she made a mental note to mention that fact to Gilgamesh next time she saw him. Then she realized she was contemplating consuming alcohol early in the morning on the regular, and scowled. She also didn't _technically_ need to eat. Ishtar's mana sustained her, and quite easily.

Still, Arturia found herself tearing apart the bread and sticking it into her mouth. It was good. Made of white flour, soft on the inside and tough on the outside. She chewed, lost in thought, and took a seat to better enjoy it. Someone knocked on the door to her room.

"Enter," Arturia said. She doubted it was Gilgamesh. He would've just barged in. She let her blue dress reappear anyway, as a precaution. The whisper of magic still sang on her skin when Shamhat appeared, her expression mild.

"Hello, my lady," she murmured. Arturia blinked at her, surprised, and then tilted her wine in greeting. She sipped the drink and found it was also very, _very_ good. Gilgamesh had spared no expense, it seemed. If he thought he could win her over with fine food and drink, he was mistaken…

Shamhat let her plain tunic and skirt drop to the floor in one smooth, practiced movement.

Arturia inhaled her wine and started to cough, spewing alcohol on herself. Her nostrils burned almost as hot as her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Shamhat sounded concerned. She began to step toward Arturia, who raised a hand, using the other to wipe at her face. She was blushing so badly even the skin of her arm was turning red.

"S-stop, put your clothes back on," Arturia managed to spit out, staring at a fixed point beyond Shamhat's head.

"Okay." She ducked out of Arturia's field of vision. There was rustling, and then nothing.

"Are you decent?" Arturia asked.

"Yes," Shamhat said. Sighing with relief, Arturia locked eyes with the green haired girl. Shamhat studied her, appearing puzzled. "I apologize. King Gilgamesh requested I visit you. He said you were lonely."

 _Damn him_. Arturia kept her face blank. She was going to punch Gilgamesh, the next time she saw him. Without a gauntlet this time. It would hurt her more and him less, but it would also be more satisfying, because she'd be able to feel his jaw give under her knuckles.

"Do you want me to leave?" Shamhat asked. Arturia opened her mouth to say yes.

"No, stay," she blurted out instead. Shamhat looked at her. "I – is there anything you want?"

Arturia found herself fumbling, struggling to pull herself together. Her nerves were frayed, the memory of Ishtar's dream pulsing under her skin, and it required all her considerable restraint to stay abreast of the humiliating situation.

"Ah." For the first time, Shamhat hesitated. "Well, I do not wish to impose, but, hm, could you show me how you did your hair in those braids?"

Arturia started and then nodded and said, "Yes, that's not an issue."

Her servants had tended to her hair, when she was still alive, but Arturia had never been one to let someone do something to her body without having knowledge of it. She'd demanded they teach her, although it felt like a lifetime ago. Arturia pulled her chair out from the table and Shamhat glided to sit between her knees.

Silent and thoughtful, Arturia ran her fingers through Shamhat's long hair. It was soft as silk, a verdant waterfall that spilled down the priestess's back. Arturia said, "Does it bother you? What Gilgamesh asked of you?"

"No," Shamhat replied after contemplating the inquiry. "It is who I am. Besides, you are also an agent of Ishtar, are you not? I was – I am honored."

Arturia didn't respond. Then she wrapped some of Shamhat's hair around her fingers, and began to explain her methods in a low voice. The other woman listened, interjecting on occasion to ask a question, but otherwise kept quiet. It was quite cathartic, although Arturia had the nagging sense that she was a terrible teacher.

Maybe she wouldn't punch Gilgamesh, after all. His intentions had been misguided, but he'd meant well, in his own, ridiculous fashion. The again, he could've done it just to fluster her. She wouldn't put it past him. Paranoia gave Arturia pause.

Still, spending time with Shamhat was simple and easy. And it was the most feminine experience she could remember having in – ever. It took a long while to finish, given the copious amount of hair, but Arturia felt rather proud when she leaned back to admire her handiwork.

"Thank you," Shamhat said, touching her new braids.

Arturia smiled and felt better then she had since coming to Uruk.

…

After Shamhat took her leave, Arturia meditated in an effort to regain some semblance of control. She half-expected Gilgamesh to come invade her privacy at any moment, but lunchtime came and went and he still didn't show.

Eventually, curiosity propelled Arturia out of her quarters. She walked around the palace, feeling rather lost and out-of-place, until a servant found the courage to ask if she needed anything. Grateful for the opportunity to receive directions without compromising her dignity, Arturia allowed him to lead her to Gilgamesh's throne room.

She realized, as she stepped beyond the threshold, that the reason she hadn't seen Gilgamesh at all was likely because he'd been busy granting his subjects audience.

A priestess dressed in flowing, colorful garb stopped talking upon becoming aware of Arturia's presence. Gilgamesh hadn't even attempted to hide his boredom, the insensitive ass, slumped in his throne with chin in hand, while the other stroked the mane of a lion resting on his knee. He perked, red eyes lighting up when they met Arturia's.

"My lord, is that not the woman who assaulted you and desecrated Eanna Temple?" asked the priestess, frowning as she scrutinized Arturia. The little king folded her arms and returned the stare, concealing her emotions out of instinct.

"Do not concern yourself with my personal business." Gilgamesh looked annoyed. The priestess bowed her head and muttered an apology. "Did you wish to observe the proceedings of the court, Arturia?"

Arturia was still angry at him for the stunt he'd tried to pull with Shamhat. But her time with the other girl as well as her meditation had brought it from a boil to a low simmer. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and sequestered herself in a corner.

Gilgamesh and the priestess continued their discussion. Well, it wasn't so much a discussion as the priestess imploring Gilgamesh for reparations. Realizing that this was concerning the damages from their fight, Arturia felt a stab of guilt.

"Yes, yes, I will look into it." Gilgamesh ran his fingers through his hair, his jewelry clinking. The priestess thanked him profusely and then, with his permission, vacated the premise. Gilgamesh gestured toward one of the scribes recording the meeting, and sent him off to find someone named Basheer. The scribe returned shortly with an older, balding man in tow.

"My lord." He prostrated himself before Gilgamesh. In Arturia's opinion, it was quite unnecessary.

"Basheer. I want rough drafts drawn up by the end of the week concerning the new entrance for Ishtar's temple. Also, I walked the wall yesterday, and noticed that the eastern section looked dilapidated. Fix it." Gilgamesh's tone brooked no argument. Basheer, who Arturia assumed was some sort of architect, licked his lips.

"My lord... the builders alluded to frustrations about the stress of work. They still have not gotten an answer about their request for a pay increase, either," Basheer said.

"I cannot increase their pay without increasing levies to compensate. People have already been bitching and moaning at me about the last tax hike. I do not want to deal with that right now. Also, inform the builders that they should be grateful they have a steady source of work," Gilgamesh said.

Arturia tried to imagine anyone complaining to Gilgamesh and getting away with it, and failed to envision such an occasion. She made a face. Even so, she had to admit she sympathized with him on this matter. Trying to drum up funds to make changes was often akin to yanking teeth. Then Arturia remembered the ludicrous treasury Gilgamesh owned, and her sympathy withered and died.

"Ah, yes, of course, my king," said Basheer.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded without incident. It was, Arturia had to admit, a series of dull affairs. She tried to recall if her own meetings had been as boring. Perhaps being in the thick of things, rather than observing, made a world of a difference. Although judging from Gilgamesh's expression, perhaps not. Then again, his emotional range seemed stunted to only run the gamut of apathetic to amused.

Of course, Arturia also conducted her audiences in a more democratic manner. While she'd rendered the final verdict, she would listen to a council of trusted advisers first, and often hear out extensive arguments and engage in intricate debates with her subjects as they pled their case. It had almost been like a game at times, attempting to diplomatically maneuver vassals, often spoiled nobles, into giving her what she wanted, and vice versa.

Gilgamesh mostly listened to proposals, gave his consent or didn't, and that was that. Basheer was one of the lucky ones, because he actually got an explanation. It saved time, Arturia would grant Gilgamesh that much.

At one point, his lion wandered over to her side. She petted the big cat, threading her fingers through its coarse mane, and it emitted a low rumble deep in its chest. Arturia smiled, delighted.

"I am done for the day," Gilgamesh said, out of nowhere. "Everyone, leave. Except you." He grinned at Arturia, who was distracted fending off the lion currently attempting to sit in her lap. She wouldn't have minded, if not for the fact that it was at least twice her size.

Arturia craned her neck to look at Gilgamesh, and then chuckled when his lion brushed its large, wet nose against her ear. It tickled. Meanwhile, the throne room emptied, leaving her alone with the king of Uruk.

"Shamash is quite taken with you already. He usually requires time to warm up to strangers." Gilgamesh sounded pleased. "Probably because he knows I'd turn him into a rug if he tried anything." And just like that, her mood was ruined. Then Arturia had a revelation and, aghast, gawked at him.

"Wait, you named your pet lion after your god of the sun?" she asked. Shamash yawned, displaying sharp, yellowed canines and a case of bad breath. She grimaced.

"It fits him." Gilgamesh's expression became fond. Arturia remembered, with startling clarity, that his weapon had been called Ea, but that it wasn't its original name. Which meant Gilgamesh christened it such.

It would be like her renaming her sword Jesus. Or her sheath Yahweh. The blatant disrespect was staggering. Stunned, Arturia almost fell over when Shamash, sensing an opening, tried to lay on her, as though he were a giant, furry, living blanket. Gilgamesh clicked his tongue and the lion flitted back to his side in an instant. Disheveled and mildly embarrassed, Arturia brushed her mussed hair and pretended nothing just happened.

Today was one of those days, it seemed.

"You appear to be in a better mood," Gilgamesh said. "Did you enjoy my gift?"

It took a moment to comprehend what he was referencing. Then Arturia glowered. She'd decided not to give him the satisfaction of showcasing her temper, but immediately threw that resolution out the window and said, "You cannot be serious."

"Oh?" Gilgamesh blinked at her.

"I don't sleep around!" Arturia shouted. Shamash's round ears twitched at the loud noise. "Certainly not with – Shamhat is a very nice girl, but that's not something I'm interested in."

"Oh." Gilgamesh had the audacity to appear offended. "I hope you apologized. You probably hurt her feelings."

"What? No, I didn't." Arturia felt taken aback, and then put on the defensive. How did he manage to turn her words against her so easily? This was his fault! Gilgamesh was the devil, Arturia was sure of it. He already had the eyes of a snake. There were times when she almost expected him to flick a forked tongue at her.

"Prostitutes have their own pride, you know. Doubly so for sacred ones," Gilgamesh said. Even Shamash peered at her with what resembled reproach.

Arturia hesitated, running through the meeting with Shamhat in her mind again. She'd thought everything was fine. Then again, Arturia had never done well with those of her own gender. Lord knew her relationship with Guinevere could attest to that. "Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not _afraid_." Arturia snapped back to reality. Gilgamesh looked at her, his expression baffled, one eyebrow cocked. She glowered. "This conversation is finished."

"Oh, very well. Have it your way." It was the closest to angry she'd ever seen from Gilgamesh. His red gaze blazed. "Shall we have dinner?"

Arturia blinked. She didn't get why he wanted to spend so much time with her. He'd told her, after she'd awoken from their bout, that he considered them friends. She'd dismissed the declaration as insulting and juvenile, but he was serious from what she could tell. Ishtar had insinuated something similar, too.

Arturia didn't understand Gilgamesh. At all.

"Fine," she said, because she was sick of arguing. He'd managed to rile her up again, despite her best efforts. Arturia prided herself on her ability to remain calm, and yet Gilgamesh got under her skin so easily.

It was almost disconcerting.

…

"This seems excessive for two." Arturia's eyes widened as she took in the feast spread out before them.

A massive bowl of stew, laden with meat, took up the centerpiece of the large table. An assortment of fruits, such as dates, oranges, and pomegranates, surrounded the stew and provided a vibrant splash of color. There was wine, and beer, and milk (Arturia colored), gleaming in golden goblets. It smelled fantastic.

Gilgamesh grinned, his brief moodiness vanished.

"There is no such thing as too much." He chuckled and slid into his seat. Arturia sighed and took the chair opposite him, focusing on dinner, on anything other than him. She thought a brief prayer of thanks, and then tested the stew. She could feel Gilgamesh's eyes on her. "Do you like it?"

It tasted delicious. The meat was duck, Arturia was certain.

"Technically, I don't require sustenance, since I'm a spirit." She ladled some more of the stew into her bowl.

"Interesting." She could _hear_ the mirth in Gilgamesh's voice. Arturia frowned.

"That doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good meal," she sniped, snatching a loaf of bread.

"Of course," he said. "So you do like it?"

"It's satisfactory." If Arturia looked at him, she _would_ hit him.

"The chef would commit suicide if he heard that." Gilgamesh laughed openly now.

Arturia took a deep breath and ignored him. The next several minutes passed in awkward silence, punctured by the scraping and chewing of food. It really was a very disgusting sound, the noise two people eating made.

"I was considering getting you something cooler to wear." Gilgamesh broke the quiet.

"Absolutely not." She refused to have her wardrobe decided by a man who didn't seem to realize there existed a thing known as a shirt.

"Why? You must be sweltering, Arturia," Gilgamesh said. She was, but she was also stubborn as a mule, and she didn't intend to budge on this matter. She knew how to dig her heels in better than anyone.

"I like my attire," Arturia said. He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"This is ridiculous," Gilgamesh said. "I demand a reasonable explanation."

Demand? _Demand_?

Arturia opened her mouth to ream him out, and then paused. She'd thought of something. Maybe it would work, maybe not, but now was as good a chance to try and test Gilgamesh as any. She had some sort of influence over him, for whatever reason, she might as well try to take advantage of it. She took another bite of food and swallowed, making him wait.

"It's about restraint." Arturia met his gaze. Gilgamesh blinked.

"What?" he asked, leaning forward with an expression of interest, his annoyance evaporating.

"Self-control. Moderation. Prudence. Discipline." She glared at him.

"I know what it _means_." Gilgamesh scoffed and popped a date into his mouth. He was almost delicate when he ate. Arturia watched the muscles of his neck work and, disturbed, looked away. "I do not understand what your point is, however."

"Think of a man who fasts before a meal. By waiting, hunger sweetens the food," Arturia said.

"So you will wear something more reasonable. Eventually," Gilgamesh said.

"No! That's not what I mean," she said, frustrated.

"I do not think you understand how metaphors work," he informed her.

"This isn't about me!" Arturia snapped. "This is about you."

Gilgamesh gave her a resigned smile. He murmured, "Everything is, in the end, is it not?"

Arturia opened and closed her mouth. She gave up, then, and stared at her stew's remnants. When the words left her lips, they exited unbidden.

"This gown is one of the few things I have left from my kingdom." Arturia was suddenly tired and overstimulated from a very long day.

She didn't know how to handle the current situation. Give her an objective, give her something to fight for, and she could accomplish it. Whatever – whatever _this_ was, whatever she was supposed to do with Gilgamesh, be for Gilgamesh, Arturia had no idea. She knew how to win wars, but not hearts. If she did, maybe she could've saved Britannia.

She felt a surge of homesickness. She missed Camelot, and her knights, and her people. A culture that wasn't alien to her. Where she understood the rules, and wasn't constantly tripping over herself trying not to look a fool. She had knowledge that wasn't her own, as a result of Ishtar's magic, but it wasn't enough. Arturia was floundering, treading water, trying her hardest not to drown.

"Okay," Gilgamesh said softly. The gentleness of his tone surprised her. She looked up, but couldn't decipher his inscrutable expression.

"Okay," Arturia said.

She didn't understand Gilgamesh at all. She didn't want to understand him. She was afraid if she did, she would lose a precious part of what made her, her.

Arturia really was unsuited for this endeavor.

…

Gilgamesh walked Arturia back to her room.

"You are bored, are you not?" he asked, leaning against the entrance.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arturia said. She still felt melancholic from their meal together.

"You are a women of action. Like me," he said.

"You're a woman?" Arturia asked, unable to help herself. Gilgamesh laughed.

"A person of action, then." In the darkening light, his red eyes glowed like twin balls of fire.

"What are you getting at, Gilgamesh?" Arturia asked, resigned to whatever he had planned. She admitted she was a little intrigued.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of a creature called Humbaba?"


	7. Our Burden to Bear

_"One day you will do things for me that you hate. That is what it means to be family."_

Night had descended upon the city of clay. It was dark, dark, dark. Arturia walked the empty, dusty streets alone. Moonlight bleached all the warm, earthen color from her surroundings. Torches flickered, warm flame casting long shadows that writhed as if in agony. She set a brisk pace, although her green gaze was lost in thought. Restless spirits had lent her feet wings, and Arturia had escaped the palace in a desperate bid for peace of mind. And now she found herself here, instead of there.

 _Humbaba._

Recalling the name sent a strange shiver down her back. It was a powerful name, a terrible one, akin to the final thud of a man's heart, his last gasp as all air was expelled from his lungs. It was a name befitting a beast.

 _The Flood given form._

 _His roar commands a violent torrent, his breath spews a furious inferno, his jaw delivers a swift death._

 _The watchmen of the forest never sleeps._

Arturia didn't know Humbaba, but the knowledge-that-wasn't-her-own supplied her with the required information. An unholy creature that dwelled in a forest, leagues from Uruk. She flexed her fingers, trying to stave off melancholy.

She came upon the site where she'd engaged Gilgamesh. It felt so long ago, even though it had only been a couple days since that fateful clash. The temple hulked before her, a slumbering animal. She wondered, for a brief moment, if stone could dream, and what it would dream of. She could make out the cracks where the force of their battle had rent the earth. She sat on the steps of Eanna, folding her arms over her knees.

 _"We should go kill him." Gilgamesh could've been discussing the weather, his tone was so casual. He beamed at her, as an unruly child_ _about to rip open a present does._

 _"Why?" she asked._

 _"Why not?" he countered._

 _"Gilgamesh." Arturia exhaled through her nose and counted to ten. "Are you not a king? You would just run off, abandon your kingdom, to go monster hunting? Just like that?"_

 _"Well. There would be time needed to make arrangements. And we would not be gone forever – if Uruk crumbles into the river in my absence, then I have not done a very good job," he asserted._

But that wasn't what bothered Arturia. What bothered her was that she'd agreed. She'd said yes. Why had she said yes? Because, of course, it would grant her purpose. Something to fight for. There was no doubt in Arturia's mind that Humbaba was evil, and destroying him would make the world a better place. And Gilgamesh knew it, too. He'd probably known her answer before the words even left her mouth.

 _"This has the potential for catastrophe. I must admit, though, that I'm not… averse to the suggestion."_

 _"Then we begin preparations tomorrow."_

The whole conversation had been surreal. What was his angle? Why were they doing this? Because Gilgamesh was bored; because _she_ was bored? Arturia didn't know which was worse. A question nagged her, a question she couldn't quite articulate.

"Dammit," Arturia said. She buried her head in the crook of her elbow. She heard a sound and twitched, but didn't move. More noise, soft but amplified by the quiet of the night. The heavy, lumbering tread of someone large and yet surefooted approaching. "Who goes there?"

A pause.

"Just a drunken lout, tryin' to figure out why a little girl is out in the dark, all by her lonesome." His response was insulting, but his tone was almost kind. Still, Arturia raised her head to shoot him a glower. The large man before her whistled. "Oi, yer her, then?"

"You'll have to be more specific," Arturia said. He shifted. His features were difficult to make out in the dim light, but he was tall and dark.

"The king's pet," said the stranger, and took a seat by her side. He hadn't been kidding, Arturia realized. He reeked of alcohol. She grimaced, for multiple reasons.

"Is that what the people of Uruk call me?" Arturia asked. She scooted a discrete distance away, in an effort to put space between them.

"Mmh. I dunno. I made it up. Thought it was kinda poetic and stuff. I had a lover, once. She told me I had the tongue of a poet, y'know," he said. Now the man sounded wistful. "Girls like guys that knows how to make things seem pretty. But the second you try to be honest – bam! Not good enough. Nobody ever wants the truth, hurts too much, I s'pose."

He continued to ramble. Arturia let him talk, the stream of consciousness washing over her. The low, deep rumble of his voice was rather soothing. Although he spoke in a brusque manner, something about his cadence felt familiar.

"What do you think of your king?" Arturia cut him off.

"Me?" asked the man, sounding surprised. "M just a blacksmith."

"Still," Arturia said. He twisted, looking about as though he feared Gilgamesh was spying on them from somewhere. She didn't know why he was concerned, Gilgamesh and subtlety didn't exactly go hand in hand. They'd see the golden king coming from a mile off, shining like a star. The thought made her smile in spite of herself.

"Waren't always a blacksmith," he said. "Was a soldier, once, too. Multitalented, that's me. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Soldier. Long time ago, under a different king. Guy by the name of Enmerkar. He was all, 'I will conquer Aratta, for glory and riches and women and blah blah blah,' y'know, kingly reasons.

"Welp, on the way there, I got sick, and everyone left me behind. Glory and riches and women waren' bout to wait for one pathetic excuse of a soldier. I stayed in a cave for two days, dyin' the most slow, excruciatin' death you can imagine. Doubt good ol' King Enmerkar ever even knew my name."

Neither spoke. Arturia contemplated the contents of the stranger's tale. She said, "I'm sorry that happened."

"Eh, 's all right." She could see the outline of his broad shoulders as he shrugged. "Long time ago, like I said. Sides, I got better. Then I got worse. Lot worse. Point is, from down here, everyone at the top kinda starts to look the same. They're all assholes, just in different ways. Not that it matters, we're all too busy jammin' our faces into the dirt to notice."

"It shouldn't have to be like that," Arturia said.

"Yeah, well," he replied. "Humans are fuckin' stupid."

He sounded defeated, and tired, and, above all else, drunk.

…

Gilgamesh's journey to Egalmah Temple the next day was swift. People saw their king and stood aside to let him pass. He strode through the streets of Uruk, tall and proud. However, with each step bringing him closer to his destination, his red eyes darkened. At the doorstep of Egalmah, they were akin to dried blood.

Before entering Rimat-Ninsun's inner chambers, Gilgamesh took off his clothes and purified himself. Acolytes poured clean water over his head, and rubbed him down with scented oils. He glistened, he gleamed, his bracelets slid and threatened to slip off his slick skin. He sacrificed a goat upon Ninsun's alter, and when she appeared, they embraced.

"Mother," he said.

"Gilgamesh," she replied. There was a pointed undertone to Ninsun's response.

"I have come seeking a favor," Gilgamesh said. He wanted to get past the banal pleasantries as fast as possible. Her expression didn't change.

"Very well," Ninsun said.

"I require your assistance. I had another vision. I must depart to slay Humbaba." He watched her mask crack, her visage morph into one of alarm.

"Humbaba the Terrible? Humbaba of the Cedar Forest?" Ninsun's sepulchral voice roughened with panic. Gilgamesh nodded. His mother cried out, unable to hold back her protests, it seemed, and said, "Where do you get these ridiculous notions, Gilgamesh? How can someone wise beyond his years be so foolish?

"Humbaba's strength is unparalleled; Enlil graced him sevenfold with the greatest terrors known to mankind; he can hear a leaf fall from one hundred paces; he is like the beat of a drum, his evil resonating deep within the chest; he is a battering ram no mortal can hope to equal; no one who willingly enters the cedar forest ever returns.

"If you seek Humbaba out, you will surely perish. Do not tempt Ershkigal, Gilgamesh, she is a cruel and unforgiving mistress. Do not seek out danger, but let it come to you, for such evil is but a distant memory to the city and of no consequence to you or anyone else. Such brash and reckless behavior only invites misfortune. Turn your gaze to that which matters, that which you hold close to your breast. I speak such words because you are my sun, my pride and joy, and Uruk would be overcast without you."

Gilgamesh folded his arms and mulled over Ninsun's advice. He disliked being dissuaded from a task he'd committed to, but his mother would not caution him without reason.

"I shall be fine," he said. "And if I am to fall, better it be in glorious battle. Thousands of years from now, they shall say, 'behold, the great King Gilgamesh, he did engage Humbaba the Terrible, and his death was the valiant one of a hero. Long may he endure!'

"Let the name Gilgamesh be forever etched in the brick and in the mud, in the stars and in the sky. He lived a life of no regrets, and he is spoken of with bated breath beyond the grave, and for that, he is to be envied. Gilgamesh could have been ruled by fear, but instead, he ruled over fear with an iron fist and an unflinching gaze.

"Think of all the bodies, floating down the river, mother! The forgotten corpses of men who were too afraid to live, oppressed by despair. All mortals die someday. It is inevitable, and my fate is no different. Only the gods are eternal. I would rather spend a week amongst the clouds than an eternity suffocating amongst the muck.

"This is hypothetical, of course. Humbaba will fall to my hand." Gilgamesh brimmed with confidence. Ninsun stared at him, and then sighed. She appeared resigned.

"You are young, and in my eyes still but an infant. It would require a divine ego to claim no fear over death. Does it not occur to you, Gilgamesh, that others might fear for you? What of your subjects? What of your companion? What of me? The memory of your name will not assuage my grief, but instead be a dagger to my heart. Your memory will not fortify the walls and protect Uruk from the other city-states," Ninsun said.

"I am no infant," Gilgamesh said through clenched teeth. Ninsun looked exasperated.

"At least take someone with you! There is a beast of a man who wanders with other beasts – I can help you gain his aide. He will have knowledge of Humbaba and the pathways he walks," she said.

"There is no need. Arturia will accompany me," Gilgamesh said, loathing the idea of anyone else joining them. It was their adventure, nobody else's.

Ninsun's eyes widened. She said, "Perhaps, then, there is a chance. You would not come here to declare that which you have already settled upon. There is more to this, is there not, Gilgamesh?" Perceptive. He supposed he had to get it from someone.

"Indeed, it is about Arturia. I learned from the priestesses' of Ishtar that they are connected by an incredible magic. Can the connection be severed safely?" Gilgamesh asked. Ninsun hesitated.

"Ishtar's mana allows her to exist as a Servant of the Saber-class in this world and time. Without it, reality would reject her. Saber is a spirit given flesh thanks to the magic that runs like a river through the blood of the gods. However, it does not necessarily need to be Ishtar supplying the energy. A transfer is… possible. Do you want to become Saber's Master, Gilgamesh?" Ninsun asked.

Gilgamesh stared at her. Panic flared in his chest, clawed at his heart. He flinched and said, "No! No, never. And do not call her that. How can you even say such a thing?" Not for the first time, he wondered how his mother could know so much and yet so little about him. Ninsun looked hurt, but then her face smoothed over.

"I can become Sa – Arturia's Master. However, Ishtar would need to be willing, of which there is no guarantee," she said. Gilgamesh scoffed. He doubted the fertility goddess was even interested in Arturia anymore, knowing Ishtar's track record.

"That is all I can ask for, then," he stated out loud. They stared at one another, words unsaid hanging in the air, a distance far greater than any chasm between them.

"Can you bring your companion to me? I would like to meet her." His mother's query implied irritation that he hadn't done so before now. Gilgamesh wasn't thrilled with the notion, but sighed and nodded.

"Yes, that is not an issue." He hesitated. "Will you pray for me, while I am gone?"

"I always do," Ninsun said morosely.

…

Arturia ate breakfast in her room. She wondered what preparations Gilgamesh required. She knew she didn't need much. Would they have a contingent accompanying them? Arturia hoped not. From what she could tell, defeating Humbaba would be an insurmountable feat, and she didn't wish to put anyone in danger. She remembered her conversation with the stranger, and felt a sense of regret that she hadn't asked for his name. Of course, the alternative meant it would just be her and Gilgamesh, with no duties and multiple rooms to put distance between the two of them. Arturia pulled a face.

The door banged open. Gilgamesh came striding in, bedecked as usual in gold. Someone had coated his body with oils or perfume, granting his skin a luminescent sheen. The scent of cypress wafted in Arturia's direction. She studied the hard set of his shoulders, and frowned.

"You're upset?" The question surprised even her. It disturbed Arturia that she was beginning to decipher his body language. She realized she was staring at his chest and raised her gaze level with his. Gilgamesh halted, startled, and then laughed.

"Not anymore," he said, relaxing. She blinked. "Let us go meet my mother."

Taken aback, Arturia needed a second to process the declaration. Then she said, a tad drily, "So soon?"

Gilgamesh grinned, holding out a hand to pull her to her feet. She stood without his help, turning over his statement. Once again, Arturia felt puzzled, the sense of a question she couldn't quite form, just beyond her grasp, on the tip of her tongue. She crossed her arms.

"So stubborn." Gilgamesh smirked. "Before you meet my mother, you will need to be cleansed."

Insulted, Arturia faced him. She'd bathed before going to bed the prior night, after returning to the palace. Then it occurred to her that that wasn't what Gilgamesh was referring to. She took in his appearance again and something clicked. He looked like he'd just participated in a religious ceremony.

"Your mother –?"

"Is Rimat-Ninsun, the goddess of the wild cow, yes," Gilgamesh said. Arturia had the absurd urge to snort, but the common sense to refrain.

She brushed a blonde bang behind her ear, following Gilgamesh out the room and down the hall. It was quiet and empty. Light filtered into the building through open windows, and outside she could see people bustling about in the streets. A far cry compared to the previous night.

"That explains, then, why you smell so, so…" She trailed off, racking her brain for a suitable word that wouldn't give him the wrong idea.

"Fantastic?" Gilgamesh suggested. Arturia rolled her eyes.

"I was going to say something more along the lines of fruity," she retorted. He chuckled and she huffed, feeling rather put out. It occurred to her she still didn't know why, exactly, this visit was happening.

"And for what reason am I being granted such an honor?" Arturia asked, a hint of sarcasm tinting her question.

"My mother wants to meet you. Fate willing, she will take Ishtar's place as your Master."

Arturia stopped walking.

"What?" She felt startled and almost betrayed. "Why?"

"Because I do not trust Ishtar," Gilgamesh said. "She is fickle and prone to jealous rages."

"She is not so bad," Arturia protested, out of a sense of loyalty. She was also irritated that Gilgamesh had gone behind her back to handle matters concerning her welfare. He snorted and shook his head.

"That is what they all say, at first," he muttered. "She is a sandal that trips the wearer. The lion, the stallion, the shepherd, the gardener – all have fallen prey to her charms. I will not allow the same fate to beset you. Trust me on this, Arturia, I would not attempt such a thing without cause. A woman so brazen in displaying her beauty is a repulsive sight. She is not worthy of you, goddess or no."

Arturia opened her mouth and then shut it, taken aback. She stared at Gilgamesh, and then laughter bubbled forth unbidden. Her shoulders shook with mirth. Clapping her hand over her face, Arturia managed to stifle the sound, but it was too late. Gilgamesh started.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Arturia said, her features returning to their normal, impassive expression. "Let us meet your mother, then."

"That is not nothing." Gilgamesh seemed aggrieved. Arturia shrugged and didn't respond. This only served to aggravate him further. The rest of the walk to the temple, he pestered her, and Arturia ignored him. He then devolved into sulking, as if that could bother her.

It gratified Arturia, to realize there was a means with which she could get under Gilgamesh's skin.

…

Ninsun observed Saber as she entered. The goddess had seen the servant in visions and during the summoning ritual, but this was the first time they were meeting face-to-face.

Saber had changed into a pretty white dress and let her hair down. Bare feet slapped against the hard floor as she looked up at Ninsun with veiled green eyes. The goddess wondered how the future people of the north failed to realize their king was a beautiful woman. Were they all blind? Saber knelt, bowing her head.

"Rise," Ninsun said, solemn and grave. "How has Uruk treated you so far, little king?"

"Well enough, all things considered," Saber replied, polite to a fault. Ninsun smiled.

"Very true! One moment you are trying to cut Gilgamesh's head off, the next you are venturing off with him into the wilderness. Fate can be strange." Ninsun noted the defensive shift in Saber's stance, but chose not to remark upon it.

"My current situation is certainly not one I would've anticipated at the start," Saber said. Her tone was low and cautious. Probably a result of dealing with Ishtar's infamous whims. Or, Ninsun mused, she feared retribution from the mother of the man she'd tried to kill. Sensible girl.

"Gilgamesh is often subject to flights of fancy," Ninsun murmured. If she focused, she could almost make out the strange, foreign language that was Saber's native tongue, overwritten by powerful and ancient magic. "Tell me, did you ever have a child in your life?"

Saber twitched and then shook her head. Her reply was curt. "No."

Ninsun decided not to press. Even the dead held secrets. She said, "Perhaps you are lucky, then. When your son is grown and powerful, both a man and a king, to you he is still the same boy that hid behind your skirts, cried when others were sad, and shared in another's joy."

Saber blinked and then cocked her head to the side.

"Gilgamesh wants me to become your Master. I will be frank; I cannot ensure such an event comes to pass. Ishtar can be very possessive, and she is quite proud of you, in her own way. How do you feel about it all?" Ninsun asked. She watched Saber's expression change into that of surprise.

"I – it doesn't matter," she said. Ninsun scrutinized her.

"When do you leave?" The goddess tented her fingers.

"I'm not sure. Whenever Gilgamesh is ready, I imagine." Saber shrugged. Ninsun stood and approached in one swift movement. She reached out and cupped Saber's face, feeling the servant freeze under her touch.

"Whether or not we meet face-to-face again before your journey, whether or not I become your Master, promise me this; bring Gilgamesh back home, safe and sound. Protect him, for he is arrogant, and missing his favorite sword, and prone to ignoring his clairvoyance. He never takes anything seriously, not at first, least of all a fight; he will underestimate Humbaba, I guarantee it." She dropped her hands. Saber brought her own to her cheek, frowning.

"… I will do what I can," she said.

"That is all I can ask for, then," Ninsun said. After Arturia departed, she sat in silence. Then she gestured for one of her votaries.

"Bring me Shamhat."

…

While Arturia met with Ninsun, Gilgamesh went in search of his favorite blacksmith. After the fight with Arturia, he'd had time to appreciate just how useful his abilities could be. If he better utilized his treasury, it could prove invaluable in the battle against Humbaba.

The thwack of hammer and tongs filled the air. It was a noise intimate to Gilgamesh, and brought him great comfort. Memories of a more innocent time burgeoned in the back of his mind. Nostalgia gripped his heart, and then it was gone like a passing breeze.

Lugalbanda paused in the midst of forging what looked like a sword, his bared, hairy torso slick with sweat, and drew in a deep breath.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "What could our great king want with little ol' me?"

"Hardly little," Gilgamesh responded. He was a tall, strapping young man, but he still had to look up to meet his father's bright gaze. "Make me six score pounds of axes and great swords. Also, the Might of Heroes is cracked. I need it fixed."

"Welp, fuck, want me to get you the moon while 'm at it?" Lugalbanda scowled and reached for a drink. Gilgamesh observed the ripple of knotted scars decorating his father's body, tattoos of uglier times.

"I would not say no," Gilgamesh said, thinking over the proposition. He extended a hand, and the blessed axe appeared at his nonverbal command.

"Shit." Lugalbanda took the Might of Heroes, fingering the nigh-ruined edge of the weapon. He whistled. "That little girl kicked yer ass pretty good, then?"

"Her name is Arturia. You will address her as such, by her title as a king, or not at all" Gilgamesh said frostily. "And it was a draw, if I am being generous."

"Seemed like a real stick in the mud. Nice blade, though. Didn' think she was yer type," Lugalbanda grunted.

"Last I checked, you are a blacksmith. Not an expert on the opposite sex." It was a low, cruel blow, and they both knew it. Lugalbanda glared.

"Yer a real ass, y'know that?" he snapped.

"I am also your king. Watch your tone, old man," Gilgamesh said.

They glowered at each other. Then Lugalbanda sighed and turned away, setting aside the axe. Gilgamesh folded his arms and stood there. He tapped his foot against the ground, a sharp, impatient staccato.

"What, oh magnificent one?" asked the blacksmith, voice flat.

"I want an estimate." Gilgamesh clenched his jaw. "I shall be leaving as soon as possible."

"Throne a bit too big for you, boy?" Lugalbanda bared his teeth in a distorted semblance of a smile. Gilgamesh rolled his eyes.

"Do not be absurd. When I return, I will return a hero. Humbaba the Terrible will soon be meeting his end," he said. Lugalbanda blinked.

"What, yer serious? Enlil's fuckin' mongrel? Welp, guess I better ensure you don' go dyin' on no one." He grabbed the Might of Heroes and bustled about the forge. "I can have this taken care of in a week. Prob'ly. Not so sure about all those great swords and shit, but I'ma do my best."

"Excellent," Gilgamesh said. He felt satisfied, not to mention smug and more than a bit clever. Despite declarations to the contrary, Gilgamesh trusted the man before him. The job would get done. There was no one better in all the land.

"Oi." Lugalbanda looked him dead in the eye. "You like that Arturia girl, then?"

"Oh, father, she is wonderful." Gilgamesh grinned. Booming laughter rang from Lugalbanda's lips, and for a split second lasting an eternity, the world became a safer place.

…

When Gilgamesh and Arturia left Uruk to strike north, it was at the crack of dawn. Inky swirls of red and yellow stained the heavens, accented by shades of pink and orange and purple. The morning was calm and clear. Arturia inhaled crisp, fresh air, invigorated and, she had to admit, excited. A week spent in idleness helped convince her that this venture was, perhaps, a godsend. Not that she'd ever tell her companion that.

Gilgamesh was garbed in simple yet refined travel gear. He stared at her, a curious smile playing at the edges of his mouth. The golden bangles at his ears jangled in the gentle breeze. He hummed a jaunty tune under his breath, and gestured for her to follow.

Outside the palace, they found a crowd waiting for them. The people of Uruk had come to see their king off, it seemed. They knelt, silent and scared. There was something else there as well, an undercurrent Arturia couldn't quite discern.

"Bring our king safely home, northern king," called a familiar voice, breaking the silence. Arturia blinked and craned her neck, trying to see a tall, dark man in the crowd. Beside her, Gilgamesh frowned, but didn't speak.

That was the second person asking her to protect Gilgamesh. She supposed it made sense in Ninsun's case, given that she was family, and yet….

"I will, I swear it on my honor," Arturia replied. Gilgamesh wheeled around to gape at her, appearing incredulous.

A ripple ran through the crowd. Suddenly, they were chanting, crying out their king's name, over and over again. Running a hand through his hair, Gilgamesh chuckled and then straightened. His golden armor materialized, glowing with divine light, and the crowd cheered.

He certainly knew how to put on a show, Arturia couldn't help but note, amused. Then she scowled, annoyed with herself. Gilgamesh strutted past everyone, graceful and glorious, confident and self-assured. People called out advice and praise, the most common being all the lines to, "cut that monster's head off in service to the gods.' Humbaba was not very popular, it seemed. The guards saluted them as they passed through the gates of the wall.

Arturia and Gilgamesh walked down the dusty road. Uruk began to grow smaller and smaller. Neither said anything. It was quiet and comfortable, the winding river alongside them their only other companion.

Suddenly, Gilgamesh picked up the pace. Frowning, Arturia did the same. She expanded her senses. Was someone was tracking them? Gilgamesh still didn't speak, breaking into a jog. Arturia looked at him. Even if someone foolish enough to do such a thing, why would he feel the need to escape?

"What are you –?" she started to ask, and then Gilgamesh's jog shifted and became a full-on sprint. Realization hit, then, and Arturia swore. "Bastard! Wait!"

She started running and they raced each other. Wind tugged at her hair, at her streaming blue ribbon, tore at her skin and her heavy dress, delighted by the chase. Heart pumping, Arturia smiled, the thrill of competition overriding everything else. Behind them, Uruk receded into a pinprick on the horizon.

Then it was gone, and they were free.


	8. Concession

_"She was like a drowning person, flailing, reaching for anything that might save her. Her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her existence."_

They took a break to eat at twenty leagues.

They didn't stop again until the sun began to set. In one day they traveled fifty leagues.

There was a certain satisfaction, Arturia found, in pushing the body to its absolute limit. In testing how far one could go before they faltered and fell. The miles surrounding Uruk were flat and barren; time passed, interminable and yet swift, the landscape blurring into one conglomerate mass as they moved.

When Arturia lived, she'd been blessed with athletic prowess beyond the scope of any female – and most males, for that matter. Now, a mere memory, and connected to a being of immeasurable strength, she felt as though she could sprint for days on end and never tire. It was rather exhilarating.

Gilgamesh had his hands on his knees, panting and sweating. A droplet dripped off the tip of his nose and onto the dirt road below. He combed his pale tresses out of his face and said, "That was fun."

Arturia realized she was soaked with sweat too, her heavy wool garments sticking to her skin in an unpleasant manner. They both glanced at the nearby river and then at each other. Gilgamesh started laughing, and Arturia folded her arms and scowled.

"I'll set up camp," she said. "While you bathe. Then I'll clean up while you cook." Gilgamesh stopped laughing.

"Cook?" he asked, blinking at her.

"Did I stutter?" Arturia snapped. Gilgamesh stared and then shrugged.

"Fine." He started to undress and Arturia turned her back on him, gritting her teeth. She heard him snicker and curled her hands into fists, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.

" _Gilgamesh_ ," she said, irritated.

"I am going, I am going." His voice grew distant as he padded away. Arturia sighed and began searching for firewood. It wasn't easy, given the lack of lumber in the area. She had to be content with a lot of shrubbery, and range well beyond the river, where it was drier. At least it removed her from Gilgamesh's general vicinity.

They hadn't talked at all while travelling. Arturia found the silence infinitely preferable; it allowed her to ignore her travelling companion without issue. She supposed it was foolish to hope it might last.

Pausing, Arturia took note of the sunset. Its dying rays blazed forth, bleeding the sky crimson. Her grasp on the kindling loosened, and an unfamiliar emotion tightened her chest. She watched the sun sink lower and lower, and began to feel existential.

"Shamash descends to judge the dead once again." Gilgamesh was close, not close enough to touch, but still. Too close. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck, and it made her hair stand on end. Arturia started, cursed herself for dropping her guard, and put space between them. She whirled, and he studied her, smirking. His hair was down and damp, and Arturia disliked how young and soft it made him look. "Where is my campfire?"

Arturia sighed and set the wood on the ground. She asked, "Do you have a bow and arrow?" It was more a statement then a question. Of course he had a bow. Gilgamesh looked surprised and then curious. He drew forth an elegant longbow from his golden treasury, followed by a quiver fletched with vivid red plumage.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She didn't respond, took the weapon, and strung it. The bow hummed and vibrated as if alive in her grip. The arrow, Arturia observed, was perfect in both weight and balance. She felt, in a brief moment of absurd whimsy, she could fire, and if unimpeded, it would travel the length of the world. She knocked the arrow, pointed toward the heavens, and began to pull back. She paused and made a face.

"What the hell is this draw weight?" Arturia asked. It was like trying to bend a rock.

"Too much for you to handle?" Gilgamesh asked lightly. "I can fetch you another, if you prefer."

Arturia glowered at him, drew the bowstring to her ear with a low grunt, and fired the arrow. There was a _thwang_ as it rose, higher and higher.

Up, up, up. She watched it ascend to meet the sun, and part of her willed for it to never return. It hung, almost suspended, and then began its homeward arc. It landed with a _thud_ , the shaft trembling as the head buried itself deep in the dirt. Arturia went and pried it loose, careful not to break it, becoming aware of the fact that Gilgamesh still stared at her – had never stopped, in fact. Not once had he looked away. She felt an irrational annoyance.

"You're supposed to watch the arrow," she explained, recalling long summers spent adventuring with her adopted brother. Halcyon days, indeed.

"I know what it is going to do," he said, an amused lilt to his tone. Cross, Arturia folded her arms.

"If you don't bother with the ordinary, you'll miss the extraordinary," she retorted. Gilgamesh scoffed, snagged the bow, grabbed two arrows, fired one, paused to adjust his sights, and then fired the other. His aim was unerring, and the second broke clean through the first's shaft.

"I _make_ the extraordinary happen." He overflowed with arrogance. It was, Arturia grudgingly admitted, an impressive feat of marksmanship. She scowled and averted her gaze.

"You just wasted a perfectly good arrow." She began to gather the firewood at her feet. Gilgamesh snorted.

…

Once the fire was started and they erected tents, Arturia went and washed in the river. The water was freezing cold, and with night's arrival, the temperature was quick to drop. Shivering, she scrubbed herself clean and then hurried back to camp.

Gilgamesh lay sprawled out by the fire, a cup of wine in one hand and an apple in the other. She supposed it was too much to expect him to cook supper. He tossed her a second apple, and Arturia caught it. Biting into the fruit's flesh and savoring its sweet, succulent flavor, she sat across from Gilgamesh. The crackling fire shielded much of him from view, and the flickering shadows made the features of his face appear strange. Inhuman. Arturia shivered, and not from the cold.

"Would you care for some wine?" Gilgamesh asked.

"Ale is adequate," Arturia responded.

"Adequate? Arturia, I only consume that which befits the gods." He chuckled as a golden pitcher and goblet appeared near her.

She wondered if there was anything Gilgamesh didn't hoard in that magic portal of his. Accepting the drink, Arturia poured herself a cup. She took a sip and sighed at the taste, overcome with depressing wistfulness.

Above them, the crescent shaped moon rose, casting wan light over the dark surroundings. The Euphrates was a low, burbling rumble in the background. The familiar scent of smoke and heat overpowered everything else. It was peaceful, Arturia reflected. Her heart ached. She remembered the last time she'd been outside Uruk, she'd been in the company of boisterous shepherds. She wondered how they fared.

"Arturia. I have a question." Gilgamesh broke the quiet, as was his wont. "What is a knight?"

She blinked and refocused on him. Her eyes narrowed. Was this a trick? Some sort of game? She couldn't tell, Gilgamesh's face was devoid of any clues. Considering it further, Arturia concluded that there may not be a like-for-like equivalent in his time period.

"A knight is a warrior that follows a code of chivalry," she said. At his puzzled expression, she elaborated, feeling a bit ridiculous. "They, it is a title, granted by the king usually –."

"You," Gilgamesh interrupted. She glared at him and he mimed sewing his mouth shut.

"Ugh. Are you teasing me, Gilgamesh?" Arturia hunched her shoulders.

"No. I want to know." It was the closest to apologetic she'd seen from him. Arturia aggressively chugged her ale. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. It wasn't easy explaining with words concepts she'd had ingrained in her from childhood.

"Yes, me. Anyway. They are mounted soldiers sworn to lead an honorable life." Arturia laid her goblet on the ground and ate some more of her apple. Once finished, she set the fruit aside.

"Can we go back to the code of chivalry you mentioned? What is that?" he asked after a pause, as though ensuring she was done. Arturia swallowed.

"I – it is difficult to explain," she said, frowning. "A series of rules a knight must follow, in order to uphold his honor."

"Yes, yes, but what are the rules?" Gilgamesh began to sound impatient. Arturia sighed.

"Well, the underlying tenants were – are, to… to protect the Church. To respect and protect the weak. To never lie, to stay faithful, to be generous, to love your country, and to kill the infidel." Arturia tried to think if she'd missed anything. Explanation wasn't her strongest suit.

"Church?" Gilgamesh asked. She poured out more ale.

"Yes, like a temple," Arturia said after a moment. He nodded and then his expression turned curious. She braced herself, having an inkling where this was headed.

"What gods do you worship?" Gilgamesh asked, seeming intrigued.

"God," Arturia corrected.

"What?" He looked startled.

"As in singular," she said. "One. There's only one God."

"I do not understand," Gilgamesh said. She took a swig of her drink. Liquid courage, or however the saying went.

"My people believe there is only one God. Well, one God with three aspects. The father, the son, and the holy spirit." Arturia could tell by Gilgamesh's nonplussed expression that she wasn't explaining this well. "Just... imagine it like this. There is one divine, perfect being who exists separate from us, and He also had a son who walked among us once – or, uh, will –, both man and God, to bridge the gap between the two." She realized her error even as the words left her mouth.

"Like me?" Gilgamesh asked, eyes widening.

"No, nothing like you," she said hastily. He mulled that over and then smirked.

"Correct. There is no one like me," he boasted. Arturia pinched the bridge of her nose. Her tutor would be tossing in her unborn mother's womb, if she knew the heresy being spouted. "But if he is separate from you, then how do you know this God of yours exists?"

"I don't know," she said, a bit reluctant. "I have faith."

Gilgamesh stared. She could almost see the wheels in his brain turning. He said, "You still believe in this God you have never seen, even after having met both Ishtar and my mother?"

"'I – yes." Arturia hoped Gilgamesh would end it there. But she'd always had rotten luck off the battlefield.

"I do not understand! What are they to you, then? What am I to you?" Gilgamesh asked, starting to look frustrated. There was a loaded question, Arturia thought. She took a moment to nurse her drink and collect her rationalizations. She'd contemplated this problematic issue during the week before departing Uruk.

"I do not consider Ishtar or Ninsun to be gods. Not really," she said. She hoped whoever was her Master couldn't hear this conversation. Gilgamesh's mouth dropped open, and for the first time, he appeared to be at a true loss for words. "I – they are powerful, yes. Vastly more powerful than any human. But I don't believe that that alone makes one worthy of worship. I… cannot believe such a thing."

If being divine simply meant that one was stronger than everyone else, but was flawed in every other aspect, was all but human except with incredible magic, then what was the purpose in having deities at all? Where was the hope, the dream for a better future, the meaning and reasoning behind all the suffering life doled out, in such a reality? She didn't want reasons for why things were, she wanted hope that things could be better. That there was a light at the end of the tunnel and a solution that lifted the darkness.

Gilgamesh still wasn't speaking. Shock was scrawled across his face, and something else. He almost seemed relieved. Arturia decided it was dangerous to delve too deep into that train of thought. This topic in general only led to madness and circular arguments.

"Let us return to the discussion of the knights," Gilgamesh finally said. Gladdened by the opening, Arturia nodded. "Let me see if I understand this. A knight is a soldier who must be selfless, kind, truthful, pious, and nationalistic."

"Yes."

"Arturia."

"Yes?"

"That is impossible," Gilgamesh said, appearing skeptical. "No human could ever accomplish such a feat. One, maybe two of your tenants, but not all of that. And be a killer as well? Impossible."

"It is not impossible," Arturia said. She could feel her face turning red. "I would know. Just because it is arduous doesn't mean it isn't a pursuit people wish to strive toward."

Was she really surprised by his lack of faith in humanity? No, not at all. This was a man who considered people little more than possessions, little better than animals. It didn't help that the calm, reasonable tone he employed made his responses all the more condescending.

"Next you will say they do it for nothing in return," he said wryly.

"Of course not," she snapped. "A knight is gifted land, if he does not have some already, and a title, which grants a measure of great respect and high esteem from his countrymen."

"Well, the realms of absurdity have lessened, at least. And what is to stop people from cheating?" he asked. Arturia choked on her beverage.

"Pardon?" she asked, recovering.

"Well, for example, say a knight commits adultery. Who holds them accountable?" Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes.

"God does," Arturia said flatly. She wasn't pleased with the direction this conversation had taken. "And I, as well."

"You are omniscient?" Gilgamesh grinned. "Or, perhaps, you commune with your omniscient friend? Ah, but that would be proof."

"No, but I am a good judge of character, and no knight of mine would ever do anything like that!" Arturia exploded, losing her temper. She was furious at everything and nothing, then. "Never! My knights are all men of the highest moral fiber!" She was shouting now, incensed, and Gilgamesh sat up, looking alarmed.

"What in the name of the gods?" he asked. Arturia froze and then deflated.

"Never mind," she said. "You think it's all ridiculous anyway."

He watched her with his unnerving gaze. She detested how he seemed to peer straight through her. Gilgamesh said, "Well, yes. It seems more a ludicrous dream than anything I have observed as possible. But your code is your own, and you hold yourself to its high standard, and that is admirable."

Arturia didn't have the energy to tell him that she didn't believe a word he said. She also didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong. She wasn't something to be admired, but a cautionary tale. Memories of the past – the future? – a time that wasn't and yet would be, drained her. Destiny pressed down on her small shoulders, and she felt her head droop from how heavy it was. She remembered the hill, the smell of death, the realization that it was her fault, all her fault…

"Arturia." Gilgamesh's voice helped her pull it together.

She didn't want him to see her like this. She jerked and glared at the golden king. He was standing, now, looking down at her. She despised it, how he seemed to inspire inferiority in those around him, as though everyone else was lesser. Arturia stood as well and wished, for one of the few times in her life, that she was taller, so that they could see eye to eye. Something bitter and angry hardened into sharp, cold resolve.

"Let's spar," she said, and called both Excalibur and her armor forth.

"Eh?" Gilgamesh blinked. Arturia released the wind concealing her blade, and drenched the darkness in holy light. He stepped back, and then summoned a sword of his own. It had a wicked curve; a scimitar, or a prototype of one. It glittered in Excalibur's shining wake. "Are you sure about this?"

Arturia chose to attack instead of respond. He blocked the strike, and then sidestepped. Footwork! She shifted, too, twisted and blocked Gilgamesh's own, cautious jab. Lunge, parry, riposte. Movements she could do in her sleep. The clang of metal on metal rang out.

It was a dance, and they were both quick to find a rhythm, moving away from the fire. Gilgamesh wasn't quite as talented with a sword as she was, but he could keep pace, and his fluid, lightning fast offensive was a sharp contrast compared to the defensive tactics many she fought employed.

Fighting had its own language. It was one Arturia was fluent in, one she knew implicitly. She could say with confidence that she learned more about Gilgamesh in the two times they'd crossed arms then during any of their dialogues over the past week.

The way he relied on brute strength to wear down the opponent. The way he left openings, cocksure in his own ability to protect such glaring weaknesses. The way he lost focus, signifying he was unused to a bout lasting an extended period of time. The way he refused to don his armor, because – well, Arturia was unsure what he was thinking in that respect, although no doubt it corresponded to his titanic ego.

Arturia twisted and disarmed him. The scimitar clattered to the ground. She rested Excalibur on his shoulder, the steel edge kissing his neck, and Gilgamesh grew still. One flick of the wrist and his head would roll. Such an action would activate Ishtar's command and kill her, but Arturia didn't fear death, not if it was for a cause she believed in. Besides, there were worse fates.

They stood there, chests heaving, staring at one another. A strange glint flashed in Gilgamesh's ruby red eyes. The second that spanned between them stretched on for an eternity.

She couldn't do it.

She'd made a promise. To Ishtar, to Gilgamesh's mother, to the people of Uruk. Protect Gilgamesh. And she'd made a promise to herself – to protect others from him. At this point, if she killed Gilgamesh, she would be taking the coward's way out. Shame and dishonor lay in such a decision.

Even if she stained her honor to make it happen, there was no guarantee that whoever succeeded him would be any better. If the stranger's words were anything to go by, the new king could even be worse. Cut off the head of a hydra, and three more would take its place. And she wouldn't be around to prevent a new tyrant from rising on the ashes of the old.

So then why did every particle of her being cry to end this farce? Perhaps, because Gilgamesh was a man without morals, and yet, somehow, she found herself working alongside him. To do nothing was to do something, a tacit agreement, and that was also a blight upon her honor.

It was a lose-lose situation. A moral quandary. No matter how Arturia looked at it, she was the one who came out the worse in the end. She was trapped in a corner, as was often the case, except this time there was no escape. Defeated, she felt all her emotions drain away, and withdrew Excalibur. Reversing the blessed sword, she plunged it into the earth and bent the knee. Her silver armor glinted under the moonlight.

"I... I yield," she said. Gilgamesh stopped rubbing his neck.

"Do not be absurd," he said. "You beat me."

"Not when it counted," Arturia said, trying to refrain from getting irritated. Couldn't he at least let her surrender without being obnoxious?

"That makes no sense," Gilgamesh said.

"I submit –."

"Enough!" He had the monarch voice perfected, Arturia thought. She'd spent long hours practicing in her life, not helped by the fact that she was already forced to pitch her voice lower. Gilgamesh's natural bass became a deep, full baritone.

"It is my turn to speak and your turn to listen. There will be none of this yielding or submitting nonsense, if we are to defeat Humbaba together. You are my friend and my equal and, while you look rather alluring in that position, I also find it to be quite disturbing. If I had not witnessed you consume twice as much alcohol prior to now, I might think you drunk. Now rise up and act like the king you insist to me that you are."

Gilgamesh stuck out a hand and smirked at her.

Motionless, Arturia considered him.

Friends, she mused. Her knights had been her comrades, back in Camelot. But there had been a separation, a wedge, a chasm neither side could cross, due to the fact that she was king and they were not, as well as the secret of her gender. Lancelot had gotten close to breaching the thick wall she'd erected, and that ended in tragedy. Not that she blamed him for his actions. Arturia took full responsibility for the events that destroyed her kingdom.

Arturia's lips twitched at the sudden idea that, by being Gilgamesh's "friend", she might ruin him far more readily than she would've as his enemy. She shook her head and cleared the morbid notion away, like stray wisps of fog clinging to her subconscious.

It occurred to her, abruptly, that Gilgamesh had conceded the sparring session. She scrutinized him again and wondered if it was possible for one such as he to change. Did anyone ever truly change? And even then, he claimed to be three quarters of a god – wasn't divinity, by its very nature, immutable and irrefutable?

"Well?" Gilgamesh demanded, evidently growing impatient. Arturia rolled her eyes.

"You are far too in love with the sound of your own voice," she said. Excalibur disappeared from view.

Then, Arturia extended a gauntleted hand and took his own, allowing a grinning Gilgamesh to haul her to her feet.


	9. That Dragon, Apathy

_"When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me... I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?"_

 _They watched the procession pass. His tiny hand tugged on her robes._

 _"Mother?" he asked. "What is the purpose of this?"_

 _She looked down at him. Curious red eyes stared back up at her._

 _"The river ordeal is required to prove her innocence," she replied._

 _"Why would he lie?" asked her son._

 _"Because then he would not have to return her dowry. Some humans value wealth above all else." She absently ran her fingers through his flowing golden curls. He had such beautiful hair, such stark contrast from most of the people residing in Uruk. There were whispers that he'd been blessed by Shamash at birth – that he was Shamash, reincarnated._

 _"Could we not intervene? All it would take is one look and I would know the truth," he said._

 _"Do you recall why the gods created humans, Gilgamesh?" she asked._

 _"To serve them," he replied._

 _"Correct. The Law and the Euphrates will judge them both." She braided his long bangs while he mulled over her answer._

 _"But I am only three quarters of a god. And, as king, I embody the Law, do I not?" he asked. She laughed, then, and caressed his face._

 _"That is also correct," she said. He grinned and bounded after them, tearing himself free of her grip. She watched him go, feeling pride, and then sorrow._

 _His destiny had been dictated by the gods, and she knew the sweet visage before her would not last. To be helpless as her son walked down his lonely path – was there any fate worse than the mother of the doomed?_

...

Arturia awoke feeling rather melancholy. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew there was rain on the horizon. She could sense the precipitation on the air, heavy and humid. Arturia slipped out her tent with a sigh, into a world tinted grey.

"Don't move," said an unknown voice. "You're surrounded."

Surprise froze her for a brief moment. Lifting her head, Arturia observed the group of men ringing the camp, and all of them held bows trained on her. A surreal calm descended as time slowed down, and she counted how many she could see. Twelve. They were all browned by the sun and lean with hunger. She located the speaker, a bull of a man with the most weapons, and assumed him to be the leader.

Bandits. The bane of the open road.

Gilgamesh was still in his tent. If he awoke, he would kill them all, surely. Arturia's thoughts kicked into high gear; she needed to scare them. She summoned both Excalibur and her armor in one smooth, practiced movement. Several of the bandits flinched at the intimidating sight, but held their position.

"This is a fight you cannot win," Arturia said, brandishing her blade. "Leave. Now."

The leader licked his lips. He said, "Magic, eh? Don't think that makes you special, girlie. Fire." He raised a hand and released a raging ball of flame. It shot toward her, followed by a swath of arrows. Hot and dancing, it scorched and soared. Arturia held up a gauntlet and braced herself.

The man may have been a mage, but he wasn't a very good one. Her natural magic resistance flared, dissipating the fire as it struck her gauntlet and flowed around her. Arrows rattled harmlessly off her armor, and any that came too close to her face she deflected with Excalibur.

"Reload!" barked the leader. Her brow furrowed and Arturia wondered how someone could be quite so foolish. The line wavered but still refused to break, and the bandits followed orders. Drastic measures were required, it seemed.

She sprinted at the leader, almost too fast to follow with the naked eye, and ran him through the chest with Excalibur. He looked bemused, clawing at the sword protruding out of his breast, before his expression went slack and he died.

That did it. The others turned tail and ran. Arturia laid the dead man on the ground, and became aware of Gilgamesh, standing behind her and scowling. He watched the fleeing bandits, his face darkening with murderous intent.

"Let them go," Arturia said.

"Give me one sensible reason," he said.

She thought about appealing to his basic decency, but she doubted Gilgamesh had any. She considered reminding him that they'd already relented, had never been a threat, but he didn't seem to care. Retribution blazed in his red gaze. Then she reached a solution.

"Because I asked you to," Arturia said. Gilgamesh blinked and tilted his head. He smiled.

"Very well. I will grant you this boon." He looked smug and she rolled her eyes. Inwardly, she contemplated that this was her lot in life, now. To be the moral compass for another. Arturia didn't know how to feel about that. Everything was a tangled, confused mess.

"I want to bury him." She gestured at the corpse, her words wiping away Gilgamesh's smile.

"That is absurd," he said. "Why waste time on a moron?"

"Worried about Humbaba's appointment with another king?" Arturia asked, scathing. His expression was blank. "He was still a man. He may well have never known a moment of kindness in his life. He deserves some in death, at the very least."

Gilgamesh took a moment to formulate a reply. Then he flopped onto the ground, looking up at her.

"Suit yourself," he said with a lazy grin. "Don't blame me when we have to travel in the rain, though."

Arturia gritted her teeth but didn't respond. She turned her back on him and set to work.

…

When the floodgates opened, it was miserable. A steady, unending downpour that felt as though it would never end. The rain soaked through both their clothes, drenched their skin to the bone. It turned the surroundings into a swamp and the river into a roiling, seething mass that grew swollen and overflowed as the day progressed.

Arturia and Gilgamesh pressed on, regardless. They trudged forward, neither voicing their complaints aloud. Their steady clip ate up the miles, and time became interminable and fluid without the sun in the sky to dictate its course. Only when the jagged tips of a mountain range became visible in the distance, blurred and ill-defined due to the curtain of rain, but still visible, did Arturia slow somewhat.

"We should find shelter," she said. Gilgamesh glanced at her, the corners of his lips turning upward.

"I have a better idea." He lifted a hand. The shimmering portal to his treasury opened, the world beyond reflected backward like a mirror. Arturia hesitated, observed the pulsing magic, and swallowed. She didn't trust it. "Afraid?"

She scowled at Gilgamesh and pushed past him. Arturia stepped through the gate, and wondered if this was what liquid gold felt like. Suffocating. It was dead silent on the other side, their breathing and the drip of water on the hard floor the only sounds in a world inhabited by inanimate objects. It was still a mess from their clash, things lying strewn about and disorganized on the ground. The scar from her blast shown as fresh as the day she inflicted it.

Arturia frowned and glanced at him. Gilgamesh didn't speak, taking in the same sight as her. His light, pale shirt had turned sheer from the rain, clinging to his chest and outlining the defined muscles of his abdomen. He looked at her as she looked away, but she could feel his hot stare on her neck.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Gilgamesh asked.

"Where is Ea?" was her answer. Arturia heard him shift. The mood soured, the atmosphere crackled.

"Not here," he said. "It will return to me though. Of that I am certain."

Kneeling, Arturia picked up a gold plate. She traced the rim, where a delicate inscription had been carved. She could sense Gilgamesh standing over her, peering down at her.

"What use does hoarding all of this achieve? Why not share it among your people? Why not grant it to those who have need of it?" Arturia asked.

"Let answer your question with a question of my own. Why not toss your sword into the river and be done with it?" Gilgamesh retorted.

"Don't be absurd," she said. Her grip on the plate tightened.

"You do not need it," Gilgamesh said. "You could kill most men with a wooden stick, I imagine. Would a powerful weapon not be most fitting in the hands of one who is weak?"

"It isn't that simple," Arturia said, frustrated that once again he'd turned her words against her.

"Of course it is. Weak men are not worthy of the treasure you wield," he said.

"That's not it." She set down the plate and summoned Excalibur, held it before her, and tried to stem the forlorn tide rising inside her. "My people have a story of two brothers. Jacob and Esau. Esau was the eldest, born only moments earlier, but he would be the one to inherit his father's kingdom."

"Naturally," Gilgamesh said.

"But he squandered it. His brother, Jacob, tricked him into trading his birthright for a bowl of soup. Excalibur isn't just some treasure, it represents the hopes and dreams of my home. To give it away would be the gravest insult imaginable, to my people and my right as king."

"That does not strike me as a very brotherly thing to do." Gilgamesh's pithy observation had her grinding her teeth. "Everything you see before you is the pinnacle of what something can be. The greatest creations known to humanity at this time lie in this hallowed hall. It would be just as much an insult to scatter them to the four winds in the name of charity."

"All I see is excess and largesse," Arturia snapped. "And a tendency on your behalf to value possessions above people."

"My people belong to me, the same as anything in this treasury. I feel as though we have discussed this before. But I suppose you are right, in that I harbor a certain fondness for material objects, sentiments I do not express toward most men. That which is purely of the physical is bound by the physical; unchanging and forever following the laws that bind it, rather than searching for a means to circumvent it," he said.

Arturia set aside Excalibur, picked the plate back up and snapped it in half. The resulting crack resounded through the quiet, echoing for a long time before fading away. She said, "It is changed."

"Because you broke it." Gilgamesh sounded amused. "That was a gift from one of the great emperors of the east, you know."

"You think people cannot be broken?" Arturia demanded.

"Not if they are strong," he said.

"No one can be strong all the time. If they were, then they…" She couldn't finish the sentence. Arturia felt very strange, then, almost a sense of kinship with Gilgamesh. The realization revolted her, made her despise herself all the more.

"Perhaps that is what it means to be king. To be alone at the top, to be stripped of your humanity, that is the exchange one receives in the name of power. You know, I cannot help but wonder if the Esau in your story had the better end of the deal. He got a delicious meal to warm his belly; a right is like a worm that gnaws at your innards, leaving you forever unsatisfied."

In that moment, Arturia reflected, she felt as though she should've hated Gilgamesh. That which he spouted was counterintuitive to everything she'd ever believed. But it was easy to hate an idea, a shadowy tyrant propped up by the words of others. It was far harder to hate a man of flesh and blood, a man who loved lions and red wine and walking the walls every morning to watch the sunrise. A man that somehow managed to make her question everything she believed in, and yet respected her enough to let her shake out of her skepticism with her faith all the stronger.

He respected her. How strange, that for some reason, the realization shamed her a little.

"Gilgamesh." Arturia stood and turned to face him. "I agree with almost nothing you've stated thus far. But, I suppose, I would be interested in seeing more of your treasury, since we're here."

He blinked and then laughed. He said, "Only if you promise not to break any more of my things."

"I cannot make such a promise." Arturia masked her smile.

"Stubborn." Gilgamesh grinned and led her through the treasury.

She let him talk, his voice loud and expressive. It buoyed forth, overrode the cold, dead silence, and replaced it with something warm and alive as he explained what was what with a proud smile on his face. He recounted his various adventures, tone taking on a braggadocios tenor, and Arturia had to admit she found the tales to be of some interest. She'd always liked to listen to a good story, and Gilgamesh knew how to spin a yarn. His voice took on a driving cadence, rising and falling with the highs and lows of his ventures.

"We should consider heading back," Arturia finally interrupted him, although she wasn't quite sure how much time had passed. Gilgamesh paused, a strange expression flashing across his face.

"I suppose," he said.

The bottom dropped out beneath them. Arturia's stomach lurched, and then she was outside again. Disoriented, it took her a moment to realize why everything felt off-kilter. She could see the mountains, and beyond them, thick, dark clouds heavy with rain. The sun hung low in the sky as the day drew to a close.

"Did we just –?" Arturia looked at Gilgamesh, and he smirked. The implications were staggering. "Gilgamesh. Couldn't we travel to the cedar forest in a heartbeat, via such means?"

He froze, and that bizarre expression of his returned. "Perhaps. I am – I only recently began testing the limits of my abilities."

"Well, why don't we?" she asked, brow furrowed. It was as though she'd entered a twilight zone, for Gilgamesh was the one who seemed embarrassed and incapable of meeting her gaze. He studied the ground at his feet with great interest.

"I do not want to," Gilgamesh said. "I – do you ever wish someone else could have been king in your place?"

"No," Arturia said, but that was a lie.

"If I could, I would never go back," he said. He spoke fast, a peculiar note to his words, almost longing, and something tight constricted her chest. "I would just wander, like a… a shepherd. A very rich and handsome shepherd, but still. To just exist, with your only concern being to live another day. I think it would be beautiful."

Arturia's heart hurt, and it was like a part of her was shattering into a thousand tiny fragments. Sparkling bits of glass, reflecting scattered pieces of herself. Two different sets of puzzles that didn't fit, shouldn't fit, and yet formed a misshapen picture regardless.

"What's stopping you?" she asked.

"Because I cannot abandon my duties," Gilgamesh said after a moment of thought. "Because I cannot abandon my people. Because if I was not king, I would lose a part of myself, and my Self is all I have ever had, even in the darkest of nights."

She bit her lower lip. Epiphany danced on the tip of her tongue. His eyes flickered to her mouth and then back to her eyes. She swallowed.

"Do you hate yourself, Gilgamesh?" Arturia asked. He gave her another one of those odd looks.

"What a ludicrous question," he said. "Does not everyone?"

Arturia committed an impulsive act, then. She didn't really know why, except she'd never been good with words, preferring to let her actions speak for her. Deeds rang far more true than any verbal agreement, after all. She took his hand and Gilgamesh blinked.

"This is… something the people of my nation often did. Will do." And with that gruff explanation out of the way, she brushed her lips against his knuckles. His skin was soft, still damp from the rain. Taut due to being stretched thin over bone. It was the briefest of touches. A graze. Nothing. Less than nothing, even.

But still, it was beautiful.

Arturia looked up, through her lashes, unsure as to what Gilgamesh's reaction would be. What she observed stunned her. Gone was the grinning mask, the apathetic façade cracked and crumbling. Gilgamesh was – was _blushing_ , appearing boyish and shy, his cheeks stained the color of his eyes and steadily turning a darker shade of red.

Arturia didn't know what to do. She could handle Gilgamesh being arrogant, being cruel, being sarcastic, being absurd, being confident, being anything and everything, and yet she couldn't handle him being _vulnerable_. It was raw and gentle, like the waves of the ocean lapping at the shores of the beach, and yet it stung far more than any wound Arturia had ever received in battle.

She dropped his hand as though he'd branded her and put space between them. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, threatened to burst out her ribcage and flop about on the ground for the world to see. She averted her gaze, her own flush rising along the pale flesh of her neck, hot and unfamiliar and terrifying.

"Arturia," Gilgamesh said. She drew upon her courage and met his stare. Thankfully, the mask was back in place, and Gilgamesh was inscrutable as ever. Arturia let out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. He smirked and she scowled. The status quo had been restored.

And yet Arturia knew she was fooling herself, and that something between them had changed.


	10. On the Precipice

_"I got tired, I told him. Not worn out, but worn through. Like one of those wives who wakes up one morning and says I can't bake any more bread.  
You never bake bread, he wrote."_

Dreams lapped at his consciousness. Vivid, euphoric, prescient. They merged and shifted and whirled together, harboring both a razor sharp clarity and a hazy ephemeral quality. A world removed from reality, a reflection and a contradiction, that which could and that which never would.

First he dreamed of a wild bull. He grabbed it by the horns and they wrestled one another. Dust scattered the air and the sky grew sullen. He bit his tongue. It swelled, choking him, he could taste blood, acrid and bracken. Why should gods bleed? The bull bellowed, tossed him aside like a broken ragdoll. He fell back on his knee, and a stranger offered him a flask of water.

The second dream took place in the deep gorge of a mountain. Beside it he was insignificant. Nothing. Less than nothing. The mountain towered, jagged and wretched. Its peak pierced the very heavens. Such a sight inspired a swell of frothing rage. He felled the mountain in one blow. It covered him and smothered him. Then a light shone out, and a soothing hand pulled him free. And his heart knew peace.

Last of all, was the end. The storm of all storms. Clouds covered the sun and shrouded the land in darkness. Tears poured forth and everyone drowned in the oncoming flood, their faces bloated and grotesque mockeries of human faces. Fear descended upon him, viscous and uncontained. And cold, so cold, colder than anything he'd ever experienced. Then it drained away. All he felt was serene emptiness.

Gilgamesh woke up.

Troubled, he got to his feet. Restlessness propelled him outside. The sun was rising, glorious in its unrivaled magnificence. Gilgamesh dug a well with his bare hands. His fingers sifted through the dirt, and then deeper, to the mud below. He gripped a slopping handful of wet earth and stared at it, repulsed and fascinated in equal manner as it dripped through his clenched fist.

"What are you doing?" Arturia asked. Gilgamesh remained hunched over, his bare feet sinking into the ground. She looked down at him. The role reversal struck him as funny, if only briefly.

"I do not know," he said. "I have strange dreams."

Silence.

"We should move on." There was an odd note to her response. Almost as if Arturia had wanted to say something else, but changed her mind. Gilgamesh stood and faced her. He smiled. Arturia's beautiful green eyes flickered with that unquenchable inner fire of hers. It amused him, how she seemed to take everything he did as a challenge that she needed to rise and face.

"Yes."

He climbed out of the well.

They continued on their journey. Neither spoke, but the silence was one of companionship. Something had changed between the two, and recalling the events of the previous night caused Gilgamesh's heart to skip a beat.

He wasn't sure what to make of the emotion. It felt like lust, but different, at the same time. Almost gentle, a cascading waterfall, whereas lust was a passionate flame that swallowed everything in its path. Gilgamesh wondered if this was what friendship was. He still didn't quite _get_ it. He understood the principle, appreciated the idea of a powerful connection forged with another person, and yet to actually experience it was alien.

Gilgamesh just knew that being around Arturia brought him great happiness.

He summoned a sword. The wavering metal glittered in the light. Its bright red core flared to life, and a malevolent aura permeated its serrated edge. Gilgamesh held it at arm's length and admired it. He could feel Artura's gaze on his back.

"It is called Dainsleif," he explained. "It is cursed."

Gilgamesh made a swinging motion, and Dainsleif sang as it cut through the air. He lazily swung the weapon about. Arturia's irritation was almost palpable. He grinned.

"And yet one would think it a toy, to see you now," she observed. "Why even own such a thing?"

"Because it is both beautiful and terrible," Gilgamesh said. "Such refined appreciation is what separates one such as myself from the dullards that populate this world. An ordinary man would either be blinded by Dainslief's power or afraid of its portent. I accept it for what it is. That is all. Besides, its curse is that it brings death upon the holder. Is that not everyone's fate, in the end? Eventually all paths must conjoin."

"Why accept that something is awful for the sake of it, though?" Arturia asked. He felt a twinge of delight that she was engaging him without falling back on hostility. Her tone was neutral. Curious, even. "Should you not try to change it, instead?"

Gilgamesh mulled this over. Perhaps she had a point. He twirled Dainsleif about, amused at how the red formed a streak of light. The rhythmic, circular pattern hypnotized him.

"I think, it is a matter of choosing your battles. Yes? And realizing that some things cannot be changed. I feel, if I tried to alter Dainsleif, it would very well bring me just as much ruin than if I did not," he said.

"But if it is cursed, then you are ruined either way. Better to fight, and fail, than to roll over and allow it to happen. Because there's a chance if you make an attempt. No opportunity has ever arisen from passivity." Arturia was walking alongside him now. She appeared equally fixated on the sword in his hands.

"Not even one?" Gilgamesh asked, nonchalant. "What if, by trying to change something, you only make it worse?"

Arturia didn't respond.

He got the sense that he'd hurt her, somehow. Or she'd hurt herself, maybe. There were times when Arturia drew inward, to a place only she could enter. Gilgamesh wished she'd let him help her. He wanted to help.

"When I was a child." She spoke so abruptly it caught Gilgamesh off guard. He blinked. "When I was young, my brother wanted to go on an adventure. We followed a strip of barley and learned that some of our servants were abducted by fairies. We armed ourselves with iron and entered a castle made of butter, cheese, and meat, with a moat of milk."

"Wait. Hold on. Really?" Gilgamesh attempted to imagine what that that looked like. He wasn't quite sure what a castle was, but it sounded exciting. Arturia's face scrunched up.

"Yes. They thought it would attract children. It was awful." She shook her head and he laughed. Adorable. "Regardless, with some help from the locals, we were able to get the servants back. Kay slew a griffin."

They looked at each other.

"You have a strange obsession with food," Gilgamesh noted. Arturia's brow furrowed.

"No, I don't," she objected. Grinning, he began to count off the instances.

"Every time you want to emphasize something, you use food as a point of comparison." Gilgamesh started laughing, which served to exacerbate the issue further. She glared daggers at him.

"That – that is false!" Arturia declared. "My similes are both varied and, well…" She trailed off, thinking it over, and bit her lower lip. Gilgamesh was almost bowled over at how aroused he was by the simple gesture. The sight made him half-hard. It must've shown, because Arturia refocused on him. "What?"

"I find you very attractive," he said bluntly, allowing Dainslief to vanish, and was rewarded with a blush.

"Oh." Arturia seemed at a loss for words. She avoided meeting his gaze. "Thank you, I suppose."

"You are welcome." Gilgamesh was having far too much fun. One of the gods would smite him at this rate. Divine retribution or whatever they called it.

The redness faded a little from Arturia's face, and she frowned but didn't speak. A strange energy enveloped the duo. It reminded Gilgamesh of a storm just before lightning struck. He could almost sense the crackle on his skin. Gilgamesh shivered, which was curious, because he wasn't cold at all.

There was silence once again as they walked, and this time it was decidedly more awkward.

…

That night, after camp was set, Gilgamesh found Arturia standing on the shore of the river. The water swirled around her ankles, and her expression was despondent. He came up behind her.

"Is something the matter?" he asked. Arturia faced him.

"I was just thinking. Do you have any regrets, Gilgamesh?" she asked. He cocked his head.

"Of course not." Yet he felt as though he'd failed, somehow, in his reply. She heaved a deep sigh, and Gilgamesh marveled at the fact that someone could look so young and yet seem so old at the same time.

"I just… sometimes I wonder if another could've done better than me. At being king. At protecting people. Every mistake I've ever made, it flashes with every blink. And I keep persisting, like a stubborn fool, and make everything worse in the process. I did all I could, and in the end it meant nothing." Her hands curled into fists. "What point is there in wielding power if you can't use it to help people? What… why… I don't understand why, when people see a light in the world, they try and destroy it. I feel like I'm fighting and fighting and fighting in a war I can't ever win. I just want - Gilgamesh. Do you...?"

It was a plea. An uncontrolled diatribe that shouldn't have made sense, and yet he understood perfectly. Gilgamesh didn't have an answer. It was something he'd thought about as well, the boundaries which he'd pushed, in a desperate search for purpose. The gods had their alleged reasons, but they'd never satisfied him.

"I do not think you are a fool," Gilgamesh said finally. "I think you are very sad, and everyone else has either been too selfish to care or too stupid to notice."

Arturia laughed. The sound was low and hollow. Worn down.

"I'm so tired," she said. Then, "We have nothing in common. Why do you care, anyway?"

That hurt, more than he cared to admit, like a sword to the gut. Gilgamesh didn't bother correcting her. He crouched by the shore and stuck a finger in the wet sediment. He etched a circle, and then smudged a tiny break so that it disconnected. The break was small enough that each end almost, but not (never?) quite, touched.

"This is you." He pointed to the leftmost point. He traced along the arc to the rightmost. "This is me."

Gilgamesh heard Arturia huff. The familiar, outward sign of exasperation made him smirk.

"You think you're so clever," she said.

"I am. But if you prefer, think of it as a wheel of cheese instead." He grinned at her. Arturia lightly punched him and then walked past his squat form, some of the tension drained from her shoulders.

"Let's eat," Arturia said, and he chuckled as he trailed behind her.

They set up a fire, and Arturia heated water to cook a stew. While waiting for it to boil, Gilgamesh got an idea. He showed Arturia a clay disk punctured with a hole, and strung with string. She looked at it, quizzical, and then blinked as Gilgamesh began to spin it in circles. The disk emitted a high-pitched whine.

"Button buzz," he said. "Whoever can make the louder sound wins."

Gilgamesh caught it and then offered the disk to Arturia. Her expression became set and her eyes glittered with competitive spirit, just as he'd suspected. She took the disk and twirled it around her finger. It spun faster and faster, becoming a blur, and the whistling noise was strident as it vibrated against the string. Arturia stopped after a moment, appearing satisfied.

"I won." She was too cute. And also deluded, if she thought that was enough to achieve victory.

"Please. That is the work of an amateur. I was going easy on you before, to demonstrate," Gilgamesh replied, taking his toy back. He let his hand linger, his fingers bushing against the palm of her hand. If she noticed she didn't remark upon it.

Arturia looked like she was amused and trying to conceal it. When he began, Gilgamesh adjusted the trajectory so that the disk looped in a figure eight formation. The noise it made buzzed like an angry hornet. Memories of when he was a child flooded Gilgamesh, when he used to play this very same game with his father. He felt a pang of something close to yearning.

"You call that noise?" Arturia brought him back to his senses. "I have to strain just to hear it."

"You are playing a dangerous game." Gilgamesh grinned, trying to remember the last time he'd felt this way, and failing. He tossed the disk at her. When Arturia next went, she twirled the chain with enough vigor to break it. There was a _snap_ and the disk sailed away from camp into the night. They both stared after it. "That means I win, right?"

Then Arturia took him by surprise. Again. How did she continue to catch him unaware? Whenever Gilgamesh thought he had her figured out, Arturia managed to reach into the depths and pull out a new trick.

She laughed.

It reminded him of when she'd laughed at his vehement protests regarding Ishtar. She didn't stop herself this time, however. It burst forth, free and gentle, and it was a marvelous sound. Gilgamesh started laughing as well. It wasn't all that funny, but that was irrelevant. Sometimes just the act of laughing was enough to ease the hardships of the world. Gilgamesh found himself wanting this moment between the two of them to never end. He thought he could see a similar sentiment reflected in Arturia's green eyes.

But perhaps that was wishful thinking.

…

In three days, they traversed the same distance others would cover in a month.

Arturia didn't talk much about her kingdom or her life as king, and Gilgamesh didn't press her either. She did tell him some stories she'd grown up with, and they fascinated him, as well as a couple customs native to her land. Neither discussed the previous night, or the events of the night before that. It felt more akin to a dream than anything that actually occurred.

He thought about it, sometimes, when they happened to touch. That peculiar compulsion. Or when that bizarre, supercharged aura blossomed between them. He couldn't quite tell what Arturia thought of it all. It never lasted long, whatever the reason, and so he was content to ignore the oddity. At least for now.

"Perhaps, after I die, I shall become a ghost and then your companion in your future life," Gilgamesh commented, once Arturia finished recounting the tale of a delightful creature known as the Questing Beast. Her face clouded over for a brief second.

"I doubt that is even feasible," she replied.

"And why is that? Are you not here, now, thanks to the gods? Maybe your God will return the favor. Or, perhaps, I shall find a way to live forever." Gilgamesh haughtily tossed his head and scoffed. Arturia did that thing where she froze her expression to refrain from smiling. He was beginning to recognize the quirk, and it both amused and annoyed him.

"I don't remember you. I doubt I'd forget." There was a hint of a challenge in her response.

"Ha! Of course not. An alternate dimension, then. Two timelines that branch, like a tree; one where I exist in your sphere, and one where I do not." He nodded, satisfied. Arturia got another peculiar gleam in her eye, but before she could say anything, they rounded the natural bend and came to a halt.

They could see what could only be the cedar forest. It spread out before them, emerald green and lush with life. The path lead straight down, to an ornate gate. Gilgamesh strained his keen eagle vision for any sign of Humbaba within the forest's depths. Nothing. He could feel the monster's presence, however, pricking his skin in anticipation.

"I recognize this place. I dreamed of it. We have arrived," Gilgamesh said, bouncing on the balls of his feet as boyish excitement filled him. Arturia took in the landscape and then, without a word, began making her descent. Familiar with her often taciturn nature, Gilgamesh's smile was one of good humor. He followed suit.

The gate was huge. Powerful magic hummed in the general vicinity. His hair stood on end, and a dread premonition crawled along his spine. Arturia frowned, contemplating the immense wooden structure. She reached out a hand and Gilgamesh felt a twinge of foreboding.

"I would not do that, if I were you," said an unfamiliar, sing-song voice. They both froze and then turned in unison. Arturia had Excalibur out and Gilgamesh felt his Gate's power hum under the surface of his skin.

Perched in a tree branch was – Shamhat? No. There were differences. Shamhat was clearly a woman. This… person… was truly androgynous, and Gilgamesh never thought he would've said such a thing. His perceptiveness usually allowed him to discern such distinctions in a heartbeat. But the green haired youth had a smooth, childish face, and a flowing silver gown that masked his – hers – its figure.

"Who are you?" Arturia asked warily.

"Enkidu," said the stranger.

It imbued the name with a sense of reverence and awe. Jumping to the ground, Enkidu approached Gilgamesh sporting a broad grin. The audacity of it all offended him, and he considered killing the bizarre thing where it stood. At the same time, Gilgamesh felt curious. This was rather bizarre happenstance. It was like two different realities had just been smashed together. No doubt the hands of the gods played a role in this Enkidu's presence.

Enkidu touched Gilgamesh's face. Its hands felt strangely cool, as did its lips when Enkidu kissed him full on the mouth. Gilgamesh blinked and Arturia drew in a startled breath.

"I feel as though this meeting were fated to happen a long time ago. Do you not agree?" Enkidu asked, laughing softly.


	11. Into Dappled Twilight

_"I felt suddenly shy. I was not used to shy. I was used to shame. Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want."  
_

Arturia felt mildly irritated, and she couldn't quite figure out why.

Still, she gripped Excalibur and watched the one known as Enkidu draw away from Gilgamesh. The golden king was expressionless, his red gaze blank yet keen. Arturia cleared her throat, and Enkidu glanced over his shoulder. At least, she presumed him to be male. It was almost impossible to tell. The resemblance Enkidu bore to Shamhat was also unsettling.

"And why are you here?" Arturia asked, suspicious. Gilgamesh stayed quiet, and she knew him well enough to realize he was assessing the situation.

"It is a rather long tale." Enkidu took a step back, no doubt to better keep an eye on both of them.

Arturia tensed slightly. The green haired stranger exuded great strength in calm, low rolling waves. He wasn't an opponent to be underestimated. Around them, the trees waved in the breeze and the gate stood guard. There was the unnerving sense that they were being watched, and it put Arturia further on edge.

"We've got time," she replied, and allowed Excalibur to dissipate. There was a pause as Enkidu contemplated her response. Then he nodded, although Arturia didn't know who it was directed toward.

"The gods created me from the clay of the earth," he said. "But for most of my existence, I was little more than a savage beast. They despaired and gave up on me. Until recently. Ninsun sent the priestess of love and war, Shamhat, to civilize me. We had sex for six days and seven nights, and she taught me wisdom and reason. Then she told me to journey to the Cedar Forest, to assist the great King Gilgamesh and defeat the Terrible Humbaba."

Enkidu beamed. Arturia blinked, mulling over the revelation, although she could feel her face turning red.

"Sex for a week? Truly?" Gilgamesh asked, because of course that would be the first thing to break his silence.

"Yes," Enkidu said.

"Impressive." Gilgamesh folded his arms.

"What a coincidence, Shamhat said the same thing. My stamina is unmatched," Enkidu bragged. Arturia pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed.

"Excuse me?" Gilgamesh sounded insulted.

The low warning in his voice had Arturia on high alert once more, this time for a very different reason. She dropped her hand and scrutinized Gilgamesh. He still had his arms folded, his eyes narrowed and sporting a dangerous gleam.

There was a rigidity to his often lax stance that she'd come to associate with true anger. Gilgamesh stood straight and tall, a murderous aura crackling around his edges. If Enkidu noticed he showed no outward sign, grinning at the male blonde.

"Indeed. Shamhat may have tamed me, but the gods gifted me with the strength of the wild. I have no equal," he boasted.

"Gilgamesh, don't." Arturia intervened hastily, before everything spiraled out of control and a fight erupted. Above them, Gilgamesh's golden Gate glittered in the sky like a closed eye. Enkidu looked up at it, his expression curious.

"Its mere presence offends me," Gilgamesh objected. "And besides, I have no need for one of Mother's lackeys. We can handle Humbaba well enough on our own."

"Spoken by one who has never seen Humbaba in person," Enkidu murmured. "Men have died of terror upon bearing his horrible visage. I would know, I have witnessed it."

"You've met Humbaba?" Arturia questioned, intrigued despite somewhat agreeing with Gilgamesh. She also found herself irritated at having their quest infringed upon in such a manner, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Oh yes, I know the cedar forest very well indeed. I came here often in my previous form," Enkidu said. "I also know that the entrance will drain your strength if you touch it. Beware such tricks, for this forest is ancient and steeped in powerful magic."

"I am more than a mere man." Gilgamesh was clearly still stuck on Enkidu's previous words. Arturia had to put in a conscious effort to remain expressionless. He could be such a child sometimes.

"Is that so?" There was an odd glint in Enkidu's grey eyes. "Shamhat told me about the various deeds of Uruk's king."

"My sexual prowess is _boundless_ ," Gilgamesh retorted. At the rate this was going, Arturia mused, they would devolve into a literal dick measuring contest. She cut off Enkidu before he could even open his mouth.

"Gilgamesh. Let's discuss this. In private." She stared at Enkidu for emphasis. The green haired man held up his hands and smiled. Arturia tugged Gilgamesh a few paces away, out of earshot. He stopped glaring over his shoulder and twisted to smirk in her direction.

"You want to discuss my sexual prowess in private?" Gilgamesh asked cheekily. Arturia scowled at him and decided not to dignify that with a response.

"How should we proceed?" she asked.

"I say we kill it," he said without hesitation. Arturia shook her head.

"We can't do that. Especially if your mother sent him." She shot Gilgamesh a pointed look. "He might prove useful. Besides, he doesn't seem to be a threat."

"As far as you know. It could be sent by the gods to kill us in our sleep," he said darkly. They watched as Enkidu became distracted by a butterfly, eyes wide with blatant wonder.

"I find that hard to believe." Arturia frowned. "But even if that were the case, I doubt he could overpower the both of us. And stop calling him 'it', Gilgamesh."

"How can you even tell what it is?" he demanded. Scuffling the ground, she didn't answer at first. Gilgamesh smirked. "Did you just assume…?"

"Enkidu," Arturia spoke over Gilgamesh. Enkidu turned to face them, head cocked to the side. "Are you a man or a woman?"

"I suppose I can be a man," he called out, after taking a second to contemplate the question. Suppose? Her brow knitted together in bafflement. Gilgamesh laughed.

"It is clay, Arturia, it said so itself. That thing is little more than a tool of the gods." He shrugged. "Its purpose is derivative. It would be mercy to put it out of its misery."

Arturia didn't speak, just looked at Gilgamesh. Her expression was flat. Meeting her gaze, Gilgamesh seemed bored at first. Then he hesitated, visibly wavering. The silent standoff lasted a few minutes longer, before he blushed and broke eye contact. His Gate vanished. Satisfied, Arturia smiled, pleased by her triumph.

"Give him a chance, Gilgamesh," she said. "He might surprise you."

"I doubt that," he muttered, a hint of red staining his tanned cheeks.

An embarrassed Gilgamesh was still something that Arturia had a difficult time reconciling with her preconceived opinion of him. She caught herself thinking that he almost looked cute like that, and banished the unwarranted notion to another dimension. Clearing her throat, Arturia focused on Enkidu, and gestured for him to approach. They had a monster to slay.

"You mentioned, before, that the gate drains energy? How do we circumvent it?" she asked.

"You decided to spare me? How kind!" Enkidu replied, grinning. "Just think of me a tool for you to utilize as you see fit."

"I'd rather not," Arturia said, refusing to look at Gilgamesh. She could _feel_ the smugness emanating from him in waves. "The gate, Enkidu."

He blinked and then directed his gaze to the gate behind them. It was made of lapis lazuli and inlaid with gold figures of lions, bulls, dragons, and flowers. The deep blue of the entrance complemented the lush greenery of the forest. Someone or something must've tended to the gate, because it and its surroundings were tidy and well-kept, cleared of overgrowth and weeds.

"That gate leads to the Cedar Forest, atop the Cedar Mountain, home of Enlil. This is the throne-base of Ishtar. It is sacred," he said. Arturia and Gilgamesh exchanged looks. She could see the displeasure scrawled across his features.

"How do we bypass it?" she asked.

"You could always ask." Enkidu smiled.

" _No_." Gilgamesh's response was emphatic. Arturia rolled her eyes.

"I'll do it," she said. Gilgamesh touched her shoulder, his expression conflicted.

"Arturia," he said.

"Afraid?" she asked, her query an odd mix of mirth and provocation.

It was curious, that his touch no longer repulsed her. In fact, Arturia almost took comfort in the light, steadfast warmth. Gilgamesh let his arm fall to his side. Arturia felt a bizarre twinge in her chest, but didn't dwell on it.

"Of course not," he said, inscrutable once again.

Enkidu just observed them, appearing a little sad. Arturia faced the gate. She hesitated. Did they need an offering? She decided to try without one, first, and if nothing happened, they'd adjust from there. Arturia dipped her head and knelt. Just like when she'd bowed before Ninsun, the act chafed at her pride, but she ignored the feeling.

 _Please, let us pass._

There was a groan akin to a sigh. The gate opened on smooth, oiled hinges. Beyond lay a broad, well-kept dirt road. It vanished into the shadows of the foliage, the tongue of a gaping maw that would swallow them whole if they weren't careful. Arturia grimaced and stood. Enkidu walked ahead of them.

"Follow me," he said. His clothes and hair flowed in the slight breeze. "I know the pathways Humbaba has most often tread."

Gilgamesh muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Arturia stifled the urge to snort. They crossed the threshold and ventured into dappled twilight. Like the gate, there was a clear order to nature here. A world removed from man and yet still touched by intelligent design.

"Can you tell us more about Humbaba?" Arturia asked, breaking the quiet. She supposed they should take advantage of Enkidu's knowledge. It would make it easier to coordinate when the inevitable confrontation happened. And first hand experience would surely be more more useful than her knowledge-that-wasn't-her-own. Enkidu faced them, walking backward, a big smile on his face. He was almost _too_ cheerful, Arturia reflected.

"Of course! What would you like to know?" he asked. Arturia shrugged. Gilgamesh didn't interject, appearing disinterested. "Where he goes the sounds of nature beat in rhythm, like a heartbeat. He brings order to chaos. His court carries the scent of cedar resin. He is the guardian of the forest, keeper of animals. Humbaba's father is the lord of the earth, of the wind, of air and storms. Enlil gifted him seven cloaks of terror, and when he wears all of them, he is invincible."

"Does he ever take them off?" Arturia didn't like the sound of that.

"Oh, of course. They would lose their powers if Humbaba always wore them. Nobody can be constantly afraid," Enkidu said, as if it was obvious. She made a face, turning this new information over.

"Is there a way to kill him quickly, before he puts them on?" she asked. It would be a difficult time constraint to work around, depending on where and when they engaged their foe.

"I would advise cutting his head off," Enkidu suggested, overflowing with sincerity. "That usually does the trick."

Arturia sighed and Gilgamesh snickered. The cedar forest was quiet. Almost too quiet. She could sense invisible eyes hidden amongst the trees. Observing them. Tracking their movements. Paranoid, Arturia tried to think of more questions.

"Do you know anything else that might prove useful? Anything at all?" she asked.

Enkidu considered her request. Then he brightened and said, "Oh! How foolish of me! I say to cut off Humbaba's head, but then fail to specify which one. He has three, you know. One on his shoulders, in the shape of a lion, one on his tail, in the shape of a snake, and another snake on his pe–."

"I understand," Arturia interrupted him, while Gilgamesh burst out laughing. Annoyed, she shot the golden king an irate look. "It's not funny."

"No, it is hilarious." Gilgamesh continued to chuckle, grinning broadly. "Tell me, Enkidu, would you describe Humbaba as well-endowed?"

"Oh, yes." Enkidu's tone became mischievous; his eyes twinkled with a merry spark. "Truly, Humbaba has been blessed by the gods."

Gilgamesh's laughter doubled, filling the silence. A flock of birds took flight in fright, their vivid red plumage streaking across the clear blue sky. Arturia shook her head, once again bothered by Enkidu for no particular reason. She needed to get a grip.

Enkidu and Gilgamesh continued to converse. Their discussions were loud and carefree, seemingly unconcerned despite the risk of imminent danger. If there was one thing they had in common, it was the intense love they both shared for the sound of their own voice. The duo flitted from topic to topic like a noble woman trying various outfits. Arturia found she didn't have much to contribute, and therefore kept quiet. That didn't stop her from feeling a little extraneous, however.

She was surprised by how well Gilgamesh got along with Enkidu. Then again, the green haired man was rather gregarious. Anytime Gilgamesh made a comment that could've been taken as demeaning, it bounced right off Enkidu. Arturia was grudgingly impressed with his mental fortitude. And also _annoyed_.

"How much longer until we find Humbaba?" Arturia finally asked, her words terse, trying not to let her impatience show. Gilgamesh threw her a startled look that she disregarded. Enkidu also appeared rather taken aback (in the midst of a ridiculous tale revolving around a ram with a tendency to mount other rams), although he recovered well.

"Humbaba resides in the center of the forest." He smiled. "We won't get there until late at night, and I wouldn't advise engaging him then. Humbaba wears all his cloaks in the depths of darkness, and that is when his terrors are at their apex. By morning he sheds free of them."

"I see." Arturia tried to stay neutral. However, she wasn't thrilled at the prospect of spending the night in the forest.

"Is something wrong?" Gilgamesh asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"You are not acting fine," he persisted.

"It's nothing," Arturia said through gritted teeth. Gilgamesh gaped at her. Then his jaw snapped shut and he smirked.

"Suit yourself." His knack for getting on her nerves was truly impressive, Arturia thought.

It occurred to her, then, that in the past few days, neither had argued much at all with the other. There was some banter, but it had been lighthearted and almost playful. She supposed it was only a matter of time before they regressed to the mean.

Enkidu hummed but didn't exacerbate the situation. For a while there was blissful quiet.

Hours later, and they decided to set up camp with the setting sun as a backdrop.

Enkidu found them a sheltered glade and then vanished to go hunting, promising to roast a delicious haunch of meat for them upon his return. Neither Gilgamesh nor Arturia had eaten a well-cooked meal since leaving Uruk, and Arturia in particular found she was rather looking forward to the prospect. This mellowed her mood as she started a fire, although Gilgamesh was quick to put it to the test.

"What is the final verdict on our new guide?" he asked with a grin.

"Maybe you should tell me that. You could probably write his biography for him by this point," Arturia retorted, rising to the bait against her better judgment. Gilgamesh chuckled, looking amused.

"I knew it. You _are_ jealous," he said. She lifted her gaze from the crackling flame to glower at Gilgamesh. He lounged on his side, watching Arturia with lidded eyes.

"And you're absurd. I have no cause for jealousy," she said.

"That is correct," Gilgamesh replied. It was a simple statement, and it shouldn't have flattered her, but it did anyway. That only served to double her irritation. Arturia returned her focus to the campfire. "If it makes you feel better, you were right. Enkidu did manage to pleasantly surprise me."

Arturia hesitated and then said, "Actually, that does make feel better."

"Have I discovered the key to getting on your good side, then?" Gilgamesh asked, laughing. She smiled back, shy all of a sudden. Her irrational anger vanished and Arturia realized she'd been acting petty. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Maybe. Do you think Enkidu could tell?" Arturia asked, self-conscious.

"Who cares?" Gilgamesh replied. She frowned at him. "Arturia. He is one of the many creations of the gods, cast aside for one reason or another. Enkidu is little more than a tool without purpose. He does not matter."

Contemplating several arguments, Arturia settled on one after a moment. She said, "You could give him a new purpose."

"Such as?" Gilgamesh asked idly, but she could tell he was considering the suggestion.

"I think the two of you can be good friends," Arturia replied. Now it was Gilgamesh's turn to frown, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"No. You are my friend," he said. She needed a second to let that sink in. Arturia left the fire and sat next to Gilgamesh.

"You do realize you can have more than one friend, yes?" she asked, her tone dry. Gilgamesh shook his head.

"No. Our friendship is the one and only example of eternally unchanging worth in all the world. Another would sully that," he said with a straight face. Arturia required a few seconds more to wrap her head around his words.

"Gilgamesh, that might be the most asinine statement you've ever uttered, which, all things considered, is quite an achievement," she replied. He chuckled, unperturbed.

"Perhaps. I will say this – I am looking forward to whatever Enkidu cooks up for us. It can hardly be worse than your... endeavors." Gilgamesh bumped shoulders with her. Arturia returned the gesture, a faint smile ghosting across her lips.

"At least I made an attempt. Unlike a certain someone." Although he wasn't wrong. Not that she would _tell_ him that.

"I love that," he said unexpectedly. Arturia blinked. "The amount of effort you put forth. Even when you fail, there is no doubt you tried everything in your power to succeed. Despite your cooking being aggressively mediocre, I still enjoyed it. And that is why."

Arturia had to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. In an attempt at levity, she said, "Are you implying I'll forever be a mediocre cook, no matter what I do?"

"Yes, well put!" Gilgamesh beamed. " _Ow_."

He rubbed his arm and laughed. Arturia cracked her knuckles and hid her smile. It occurred to her, then, just how close they were – in both senses of the word. How had they even gotten to this point? That they were capable of sitting shoulder to shoulder and holding civilized conversations was nothing short of a miracle.

Before Arturia could contemplate their shifting relationship further, she became aware of an unnatural presence and stiffened. Gilgamesh did the same, going silent and tense. Something dangerous approached, and whatever it was, it was powerful enough to raise the hairs on the back of Arturia's neck.

They watched a shadow tread through the overgrowth. Then there was a shift and the dread sensation vanished. Enkidu traipsed out of the gloom and into the light. Over his shoulder he carried –.

"Is that a _bear_?" Gilgamesh sounded appalled.

"Yes," Enkidu confirmed. He appeared very satisfied, and dropped the brown bear's carcass. It hit the ground with a veritable thud.

"Why would you catch a _bear_?!" Gilgamesh shouted. Arturia bit the inside of her cheek.

"It tried to maul me, so I killed it," Enkidu explained. "It would have been a waste to leave it."

"I am not touching that," Gilgamesh said.

"Don't be picky, Gilgamesh," Arturia said. She'd spent most of her life eating fish; she wasn't about to complain.

"I reserve the right to control what goes into my body! And it will most certainly not be _bear_ meat of all things," he replied.

"You should try it, at least," Enkidu suggested. "It might surprise you."

Gilgamesh froze. He exchanged a glance with Arturia. She shrugged, although inwardly she was amused by the whole affair. Gilgamesh groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh, I suppose," he said.

…

 _Corpses in the river. Fire in the sky. Blood in the ground._

 _Red everywhere. It seeped into her pores, clogged her nose, threatened to drown her. She stumbled about, lost and afraid._

 _Why was she running? She sprinted along the banks of the river toward an unknown destination. Terror nipped at her heels like the hounds of hell. Don't stop, keep moving forward, don't look back, never look back, push onward forever onward until the end of time in the future lies the dream of something better the past is dead and gone and can never be changed never never never…_

 _Something grabbed her ankle and tripped her. She stumbled and fell, an acrid, metallic taste filling her mouth. Twisting and kicking, she tried to break free, but the grip was harder than steel. She turned and saw her reflection broken and drenched in crimson._

 _They stared at each other, and the world held its breath._

 _"Father," said the not-her. Clutching, snatching, grasping. Don't touch don't touch don't touch LET GO. "Father…"_

 _She reacted by lashing out and ripping out not-her's heart. It pulsed in her hand and all she felt was despair._

Arturia awoke in the dead of night, more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life. She cried out, pride forgotten, and reached for something to hold onto. Anything.

She met the warm touch of another person. He drew her close and buried his head in the crook of her neck. She could feel the tears staining his cheeks, dripping onto her skin. His heart beat against her chest, fast but rhythmic, unsteady yet real.

They clung to each other. Solace found in the presence of another. An anchor against the churning waters of her heart and mind. If not for him she might have gone insane with fear. As it was, he was just solid enough for her to stay tethered to reality.

Thousands upon thousands of eyes stared at them. They were everywhere and nowhere, watching, standing aside, apathetic and waiting for them to fail. Each individual blade of grass was a hand that clutched and grasped. She was convinced the earth would open up and swallow them whole. They would suffocate and no one would care. They would die forgotten. But at least they wouldn't die alone.

An interminable length of time passed, and slowly reason returned. Arturia realized she'd been hugging Gilgamesh and pulled away. He pawed at his face, seeming almost ashamed. His outline was dim due to the fact that the fire was now a series of red hot coals. Even in the darkest of nights, however, Gilgamesh's eyes glowed. A lighthouse that could guide a fisherman's boat home, through the rocks and the storms.

"Are you okay?" Arturia's voice was hoarse, as though she'd been shouting. Maybe she had been.

"No," Gilgamesh said. He huddled closer and she let him. Welcomed it, even. "Are you?"

"No." Arturia rested her head on his shoulder and ignored the warning bell sounding in the back of her mind. His proximity made her feel safe. Arturia could still feel the terror on the peripheral of her soul, but it was now under control. "What happened?"

"Humbaba." Enkidu sat across from them, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was rocking back and forth, the slight motion all Arturia could make out. Gilgamesh didn't speak, just tightened his grip around her waist.

They were all silent for a long time.

As the night drew to a close and the sky greyed in preparation for the sun's arrival, Arturia felt the vestiges of her fear drain away. In its place was a new emotion, burning hot and bright: anger. She looked at Gilgamesh and saw a similar fury reflected in his gaze.

Her pride, once laid low, blazed forth. Arturia was both humiliated and incensed. She never wanted to feel this way again. Retribution was required to satisfy her honor. As the sun began to rise, Gilgamesh let go of her and stood up. His expression was hard and his jaw was set.

"What are you doing?" Enkidu asked.

Gilgamesh didn't answer. Holding out his hand, the Might of Heroes appeared. He donned his armor and walked toward a nearby tree. It was massive, ancient and proud. No doubt it had stood sentinel in the forest for countless decades. King Gilgamesh chopped the tree down in one decisive blow.

It fell with a crack like thunder, and Humbaba's answering roar came like the call of a clarion.


	12. Fear Itself

_"It's true, I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of the world moving forward without me, of my absence going unnoticed, or worse, being some natural force propelling life on. Is it selfish? Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do? I don't mean the world ending with respect to me, but every set of eyes closing with mine."_

Arturia's teeth rattled. Humbaba's ferocious roar echoed throughout the forest; it was a percussive noise that shattered the tranquility. Overhead storm clouds were beginning to gather. Gilgamesh took a step back and glanced over his shoulder at her. He grinned, but his eyes were set and glittered with fierce resolve.

She wasn't angry with Gilgamesh. On the contrary, Arturia approved his direct course of action. Humbaba knew that they were here, and that they had trespassed into his domain. Soon he would meet his inevitable end at their hands.

Arturia wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"We should hurry," Enkidu said. "The longer we wait, the more time Humbaba has to prepare."

Her response was to gear up. She knew from prior discussions and her own innate knowledge that it would take Humbaba a few hours to reach full strength. Part of Arturia longed to fight him at the height of his power.

No holds barred. Both sides going all-out. Whoever emerged the victor would have earned it, as well as the honor that accompanied a hard fought victory. Arturia was proud of her own strength, and confident in her ability to defeat someone that claimed to be invincible, especially if Gilgamesh fought by her side.

But the knowledge-that-wasn't-her-own told her that Humbaba would still be more than enough of a challenge in his current state. It would also alleviate the risk of Gilgamesh falling to Humbaba's terrors. Even a few days earlier, Arturia wouldn't have expected his welfare to play a factor outside her obligatory promise, but the thought of Gilgamesh dying made her stomach twist in a most unpleasant manner.

Arturia was forced to stop pondering the complicated web of emotions, because the group was suddenly dashing through the forest in the direction of Humbaba's enraged bellows. Tree branches and shrubbery snagged her hair and clothes, as if trying to dissuade her from proceeding. But Arturia persevered regardless, driven forward by her wounded pride and her own fierce anger.

They burst out of the tree line and into a spacious clearing. A large house fashioned from cedar stood at the center. It took a split second for Arturia to realize why the sight was so strange; she hadn't seen a wooden home since her arrival.

In front of the cottage stood Humbaba. Everyone froze. Time stood still.

He was a giant, standing over eight feet tall. He had the face of a lion, a pair of horns curling out of his wild mane. Humbaba stared at them, his eyes burning with divine fire, and the snake that served as his tail flicked its forked tongue in their direction. His skin was strange; scales that were long and flowed like fur. Grass and other plant-life grew out of the craggy openings on his shoulders and back. Humbaba's third head was, indeed, a snake jutting from his pelvis. Arturia made a face at the crude sight and caught Gilgamesh smirking at her. She scowled and brandished Excalibur.

Humbaba snarled upon spying her blade. The very air trembled from the fearsome noise. Once again Arturia felt that alien flicker of fear. She loathed the sensation and quashed it as best she could. Gilgamesh stood straight and tall beside her, radiating a cold and regal fury.

"I am King Gilgamesh of Uruk, son of Lugalbanda and Rimat-Ninsun –," he started to say, breaking the tense standoff.

However, Humbaba had another idea. He roared, and Arturia's skin tingled with the force of primordial magic. There was a supernatural pulse. The forest inhaled and exhaled. They all instinctively scattered. Arturia circled Humbaba. She saw Enkidu strafing in the other direction. Perhaps they could trap the monster in a pincer maneuver. But where was Gilgamesh?

Oh. There. On top of a thick tree branch, on the clearing's edge, arms folded as he looked down at everyone. Gilgamesh stamped his foot, a sharp, crisp movement, and cleared his throat.

"I am King Gilgamesh –." He tried again. Then he stopped, eyes growing wide, and threw himself off the tree. It lunged after him, branches reaching out to snag him. Roots cracked and sod went flying as the tree wrenched free of the dirt. It reached to entangle Gilgamesh and then righted itself, as he edged clear of its periphery.

"Be serious, Gilgamesh!" Arturia shouted. Why had she been worried about his safety, again?

Around Arturia she could sense the forest shifting and coming alive. She crept further toward the center of the meadow, and further toward Humbaba. He watched them and made a strange noise. It took Arturia a split second to realize he was laughing. It was a horrible, gnashing sound, akin to two boulders grinding against one another. This angered Arturia a great deal, and her jaw locked.

Gilgamesh also looked infuriated. He whipped around to glare at Humbaba. His Gate opened and a dozen weapons poured out of it. They flew toward the creature, who stopped and sprang into action. Humbaba was fast. His two snake heads grabbed a sword and a spear out of midair. He deflected and dodged most of the rest, although an axe sank into his shoulder with a dull thud.

Humbaba roared, ripped the axe free, and hurled the three weapons back at the trio.

Arturia knocked the incoming spear aside. She didn't see what the others were doing, because her vision was then blocked by Humbaba's charging form. He barreled toward her, horns lowered, the ground shaking from the force of his massive tread. Arturia started to backpedal and then realized her mistake a split second too late. Something wrapped about her leg as she drifted too near the forest, and she kicked free of the insidious brush and rolled out of Humbaba's way.

But Arturia failed to account for the reach of the accursed tail. Something sharp and hot grazed her temple. As she sprang aside, viscous liquid began to pour down her face. Arturia stumbled back. She felt dizzy and her ears were ringing. As if from a great distance, Arturia thought she heard Gilgamesh shouting.

Vision blurry, Arturia could just make out Humbaba turning to face her. She readied her sword and drew upon her innate abilities. She felt humiliated at having made two foolish mistakes in the span of a few heartbeats, and sought to rectify them. The bleeding was a mild annoyance, but not much else.

"Excalibur!" Arturia activated her Noble Phantasm. The world turned gold and Humbaba's roar was drowned out by what someone once likened to the winds of heaven. As the Anti-Fortress energy faded, she knew something had gone wrong.

Humbaba stood surrounded by blackened stumps reduced to charcoal, the ground around him a smoking crater. A bizarre miasma protected – no, _cloaked_ him. Even squinting through the bleeding, Arturia couldn't help but marvel at how wonderful and horrible it was. It looked like the universe given physical form. The empty nothingness of space yawned at her. Arturia stared at the abyss and the abyss stared back.

A massive white beast slammed into Humbaba before he could make his next move. They wrestled each other, and the earth groaned under the weight of their titanic clash. But Arturia couldn't move, transfixed, an echo of the horror she'd felt the previous night threatening to crush her down, down, down…

 _I never wanted children._

 _The idea did not sit well with me. Would I be expected to place my child before my people? No. Of course not. I could not. I would not._

 _But it was my duty as king to produce an heir. And therein was the reasoning that lead to my undoing._

 _Merlin said, once, that sex didn't matter when it came to being king. Merlin was wrong. It was my fatal flaw, and in the end it resulted in my death and my kingdom's destruction._

 _The Code of Chivalry varies from knight to knight. But there are core tenants. Pillars of Truth that all must strive toward in the Pursuit of Honor. But how could I ever hope to uphold them when my entire life was based upon deception?_

 _From the moment I pulled Caliburn from the stone, to the moment you pierced me with Clarent, I lived a lie. My subjects never knew the truth. Most of my knights never knew the truth, either, although some suspected it. I encased my body in armor and never took it off for fear of discovery. How can you love someone if you never know them? How can you ever truly understand them?_

 _Perhaps that is the secret that brings me the most shame. I am, in truth, nothing more than an excellent liar and a terrible hypocrite. For what right did I have to crucify Guinevere, when I strayed long before she did? Worse, with my own gender, with my own flesh and blood?_

 _I wasn't lying when I said I didn't despise you, Mordred._

 _But the day you took off your helmet, I was afraid of you._

 _In your eyes I saw reflected the demise of Camelot. Everything I had worked so hard to achieve, reduced to nothing. And it was all my fault. The inevitable was coming, like the downward arc of an arrow as it falls from the sky._

 _In your eyes was the reflection of my failure. I failed my God, my father, my wife, my knights, and my people. My_ people _. Sometimes I wonder if the world would be a better place without kings. Once Merlin told me of ancient Athens, and their practice of democracy. I thought it was both a beautiful and terrifying prospect. Death by a cup of hemlock rather than a bite of the forbidden fruit._

 _When you are king, you are not human. You must be above humanity, because you are humanity's judge as chosen by God. Persons become people. A faceless conglomerate defined by generalities rather than individualities. Things. The reverse is also true. To my people, I was the Law. To my people, I was the fist that reached out and delivered retribution, enforcing what they should and should not do. But I was never a person to them. Power had stripped me of my humanity, as all absolute power does. I was the thing that achieved right through might._

 _You were not born as a normal human, and yet you were defined by your humanity. You were more human than I ever was. That is why you lacked the capabilities to be king. I tell you truly, I never despised you, Mordred._

 _I have only ever hated one person, and that is **MYSELf** …_

"ARTURIA!"

Gilgamesh's voice brought her back to reality. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, bracken like regret. She blinked, dazed, and then blinked rapidly. The blood from her head injury flowed thick and fast, clouding her vision.

It took Arturia a second to realize she was inside Gilgamesh's treasury. He stared at her, hands on her shoulders as though he'd been shaking her. The blatant concern on his face lent his harsh features a peculiar softness. He was glowing, which had to be a result of her lightheadedness.

"What… Humbaba?" she asked. Her voice sounded thick and borderline unrecognizable to her own ears. Gilgamesh let go and spun around; he started rifling through his treasures. The whole area vibrated from what could only be Humbaba's sheer power.

"Enkidu is distracting him," he said. It felt like an eternity before this clicked.

"He's distracting – _alone_?!" Arturia shouted. The world 'alone' echoed throughout the treasury, over and over again. Gilgamesh didn't look in her direction, rummaging about and muttering nonsense under his breath. "Gilgamesh!"

"Yes!" he snapped back, doing an about face and frowning at her. "We will not be long. You are hurt."

"This is nothing. A flesh wound. I could fight Humbaba blind and one handed if I so desired." Arturia was insulted.

"Now you are being ludicrous," Gilgamesh retorted. "And you cannot see properly, which is far worse. Your depth perception is skewed."

"Head wounds bleed a lot. I'm fine." She swayed as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm her.

"Shit. Poison?" Gilgamesh resumed his frantic search.

"Every second we waste here puts Enkidu further in danger! More than that, I do not retreat! It is not my way!" Arturia said, her temper blazing forth. "This is an affront to honorable combat."

"Fuck that," Gilgamesh said loudly. He continued looking for whatever ridiculous bauble he wanted. " _Your_ life is in danger. I would sacrifice Enkidu a thousand times over to save you, if that was what it took."

Arturia opened her mouth. Gilgamesh barreled on, however, overriding her protests.

"But Enkidu is not going to die. No one is going to die but Humbaba. Do you understand? _No one_. We are going to win. _We are going to win_. But we cannot if you hamper yourself with foolish stubbornness – aha!" Gilgamesh straightened.

In his hand he held a pot. It was decorated with a picture of an orchid, although the variant was unknown to Arturia. The pot sparkled with an ethereal glow. Gilgamesh opened it to reveal a strange cream and a silk cloth.

"What is that?" Arturia growled, because she couldn't think of a rebuttal to Gilgamesh's words. She blamed it on the blood loss.

"Sanjeevani." He stuck his fingers in the paste. "From the Valley of Flowers. Hold still."

Gilgamesh smeared some of the medicine on her forehead. It hurt like hell. She flinched and cursed. He appeared exasperated, which served to further her irritation.

"Would you be careful?" Arturia asked grumpily. Gilgamesh frowned and then smirked.

"You are rather cute right now, you know. Like a child that cannot play for a little while because she scraped her knee." He brushed her bang behind her ear and applied more sanjeevani. Gilgamesh's touch was gentle and the cream was taking effect. The pain faded and the fog began to lift.

"Don't insult me," Arturia said, more as a matter of principle than actual frustration. His tender ministrations caused something hot and tight yet unidentifiable to stir in her gut. Realizing their proximity, Arturia swallowed and blushed. She felt unbearably warm, then, and became aware of how stifling and itchy her wool clothes were.

Gilgamesh chuckled and wiped her face clean of both blood and paste. She felt reinvigorated. That had to be some of the most potent medicine she'd ever had. Arturia made a mental note to ask Gilgamesh more about it after the fight.

 _We are going to win._

She believed him. For all his faults, he would not lie to her.

"Was that so hard?" Gilgamesh asked, stroking her cheek. His thumb and forefinger lightly traced patterns on her skin.

Arturia didn't answer, because for whatever reason (no doubt a result of blood loss), her brain seemed to be malfunctioning again. She could make out the individual strands of his long, pale eyelashes, as well as the minor blemishes and imperfections of his warm brown skin. It occurred to Arturia that Gilgamesh was, in fact, an attractive young man. Not that she hadn't noticed, before, but in that moment she was very much aware of it.

Gilgamesh got a strange look in his eye and tilted her chin up to face him. She found herself fixated on his mouth. He started to lean in and she must have truly lost her mind, because Arturia was sliding her hands around Gilgamesh's neck when the floor rumbled. Something fell and hit the floor with a loud _clang_. They jerked apart, staring at each other for a split second. Then reality hit.

"Oh my God." Arturia was horrified. She'd _completely_ forgotten about Enkidu. "Gilgamesh, we need to get out of here."

"Yes," he said.

They reappeared in the cedar forest. Humbaba and the strange white beast were writhing about at the edge of the clearing, where Arturia had wrecked a large chunk of the trees. The thing fighting Humbaba was a huge and bizarre monstrosity, milky skin decorated with glowing tattoos. Atop his misshapen oval shaped head was a pair of impressive antlers, currently gouging into Humbaba's side.

Humbaba was also attempting to gore the thing with his horns. He was wrapped around what Arturia could only assume was Enkidu. All three heads bit deep into Enkidu's clay form, and Humbaba's tail slowly constricted the life out of its opponent. Even as they watched, Enkidu's exertions weakened. Every time they shifted tremors wracked the land. Arturia had to fight to stay balanced.

It was storming. Across the sky, lighting flashed bright and thunder boomed forth. Rain fell in thick sheets, and Arturia was soaked in seconds. She rolled up her sleeves and tightened her hold on Excalibur.

"Keep Humbaba occupied. I have a plan," Gilgamesh said.

"I hope it's a good one," Arturia said.

"All my plans are great," he replied, shooting a grin her way. Arturia shook her head and bit back her smile. Then she was sprinting at Humbaba.

Arturia closed him down. She tried to approach Humbaba from his blind side, but this was quite difficult when he had three heads and six eyes. His tail released Enkidu and reared to face her. Reacting quickly, Arturia lashed out with Excalibur in an effort to lop off the tip. Her sword sank into the cloak of terror. With a bit more time, she might've been able to drive clean through. But Humbaba's snake shaped phallus was lunging at her with the clear intention of ripping her head off. Arturia wrenched Excalibur free and dodged his retaliatory strike.

She must've hurt Humbaba, however, because he roared and released Enkidu. The beast shoved Humbaba into the trees and scrambled to safety. Bits of Enkidu's body crumbled and broke apart, and his form appeared close to losing its shape. He collapsed, shrank, and became a white wolf. The wolf ran in a circle around Arturia. Surprised, she stared at him.

"That's your trick, then?" Arturia asked. Enkidu wagged his tail. "Are you a wolf or a dog?"

He growled. She laughed. Humbaba bellowed.

They both faced the furious keeper of the forest. Saplings burst to life at Humbaba's feet, thickening and replacing the trees that Arturia had destroyed. What was Humbaba doing? A defensive maneuver?

The duo separated and flowed around Humbaba. Enkidu howled. It reminded her of the many boar hunts she'd once participated in, and she half wished she had a horn to bring to her lips. Mud churned beneath Arturia's feet, slowing her down somewhat. She paid it no heed. Arturia had a realization, then.

 _Everything in this forest is an extension of Humbaba. Or, perhaps, Humbaba has become an extension of the forest._

Arturia spun around and took off in the direction of Humbaba's house. She couldn't see Gilgamesh, but she had no doubt he was in the vicinity. Praying that he would not get in the way, Arturia skidded to a halt, readied her Noble Phantasm, and released it with a loud exclamation.

The blast obliterated the cottage, and she heard Humbaba scream in agony. Turning, Arturia saw that the monster was stunned and on his knees. The foliage halted its progression and wilted. Tears the color of amber leaked out Humbaba's main face, mixing with the rain and dripping into his mane. His tail drooped almost to the ground.

"Humbaba!" Gilgamesh shouted, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the storm and Humbaba's pained cries.

Arturia turned and did a double take. Standing atop a shimmering, floating skycraft, the king of Uruk was framed by a backdrop of lightning and rain. His armor and his ship – right, Vimana, that was the name – shone with divine light. Gilgamesh stood arrogant and proud, the center of attention, seven golden gates flanking him. Vimana hovered, elegant and glorious, a grand yet delicate symbol of Gilgamesh's vast treasury. It floated in midair, a jeweled butterfly, and withstood the raging storm with ease.

"Prick," Arturia mumbled under her breath. Had he wasted their time just to look good? And yet, she found her heart skipped a beat at the impressive sight.

"I am –," Whatever else Gilgamesh said was drowned out by seven great and terrible winds. The scorching wind, the icy wind, the tempest, the monsoon, the gale, the whirlwind, and, of course, the storm. They howled like a furious dragon and buffeted Humbaba. The noise was so fierce that Arturia had to clap her hands over her ears and screw her eyes shut.

Then it was over and there was silence.

The weather cleared, although the sky was still grey. Humbaba lay sprawled out like a bull that had been roped. There was something sad about the sight of a fearsome creature brought low, and yet triumphant too. Their foe had been vanquished!

Gilgamesh jumped off Vimana. He did a front flip and landed on his feet. Enkidu must've returned to his human guise, because he clapped to show his appreciation.

"Please stop," Arturia said. Enkidu obliged.

"Arturia." Gilgamesh grinned. "We won. There is no need to be so bitter that I stole the show."

"Oh please," Arturia said drily, but she found she was smiling. It wasn't something she did often, and it surprised her, how satisfied and even thrilled she felt. Part of her wondered if the feeling was immoral. She quashed the thought. For once, Arturia didn't want to be ashamed of her success.

"Gilgamesh," rumbled an unknown voice.

The trio tensed and then turned to face Humbaba. The beast was too weak to move, and seemed to struggle just to turn and face them. When Humbaba spoke, it was as though his words echoed out of every tree in the area. It was a jarring and dissonant sound. Gilgamesh folded his arms.

"I am King Gilgamesh of Uruk, son of Lugalbanda and Rimat-Ninsun, two-thirds god and one-third human. You will address me as such, mongrel. Someone might as well teach you some manners," Gilgamesh snapped.

"You and I are not so different, King Gilgamesh," Humbaba rumbled. Gilgamesh scoffed. "I am also partly divine. I never knew my mother, only my father, Enlil, and the mountain that reared me. We have our feet in both the world of men and the world of the gods, but we belong to neither. We are feared by man and disdained by god. In me you have another who understands your perspective. Let me go free, and I shall be your loyal servant, and you shall be my lord. The cedar forest and my allegiance will be yours to command. Please, King Gilgamesh. Show poor Humbaba mercy."

Arturia expected Gilgamesh to shrug the query off. So she was shocked to see that he looked thoughtful. Was he actually considering it? Before she could say anything, Enkidu spoke up.

"Do not listen to him, Gilgamesh!" There was a surprising amount of urgency underlying Enkidu's plea. "Return the snared bird to his nest, and you shall never leave this place alive. Humbaba will close off the pathways and hide until night falls. He is a liar and a _snake_."

Gilgamesh frowned. He didn't appear pleased with Enkidu's intervention. Gilgamesh said, "You would not even give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Exactly!" Humbaba proclaimed, his eyes coming alive with hope. "How can you be so cruel, creature of clay? Once you were less even than I."

"Enkidu is right," Arturia said abruptly, before Enkidu could formulate a (from the look on his face, vulgar) retort. Everyone turned to stare at her. "I don't trust Humbaba. It would be better to grant him a swift and merciful death. It is why we came here in the first place, is it not? Besides, did you not tell me that one and only one would die today? Are you not a man of your word?"

Gilgamesh ran his hand through his hair. His troubled expression vanished and he nodded. "Very well."

"Use me to slay Humbaba," Enkidu said. He had a peculiar gleam in his eye. Before Arturia could ask for clarification, Enkidu provided it. He transformed into an executioner's axe. Gilgamesh hefted the massive weapon, seeming impressed.

"Interesting," he said.

Humbaba shuddered, his efforts pathetic and useless. Arturia didn't have any sympathy for him. He'd fought a warrior's death match, and lost. Rather than accept his fate, Humbaba was content to grovel and beg. Did he not have pride? She felt nothing toward the monster.

"Do you want me to do it?" Arturia asked. Gilgamesh swung Enkidu, experimenting with the weight.

"No. I rendered the judgment. I shall pass it." He approached Humbaba.

"Please…" said the creature, his request laced with fear. He was ignored.

Gilgamesh swung the axe once. For all his strength, Humbaba's neck was too thick to cut through in once blow. The monster uttered a gurgling scream. Gilgamesh swung again, and then again, and Humbaba's head rolled free. It took a long time for his screams to fade, trapped as they were in the trunks of countless trees.


	13. The Dog and the Cage

_I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What's so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What's so great about feeling and dreaming?"_

The cedar forest shivered.

Humbaba's death could be felt in the mountains and in the hills, in the river and in the air. Then it passed over and life continued as usual.

Gilgamesh hunched beside the corpse. Humbaba's face was frozen in an animalistic rictus; teeth clenched together and eyes glazed over. He hoisted the head by the mane. Blood dripped slow and steady from the severed neck onto the ground.

"Don't play with body parts, Gilgamesh," Arturia chided him, her expression blank as she surveyed the grisly scene. Gilgamesh placed the head within his Gate.

"A keepsake to remember the occasion. Perhaps, when we return to Uruk, we can stick it on a spike and parade it through the streets," he said. She frowned.

"Is that necessary?" Arturia asked.

"No," Gilgamesh replied. "But it is not about necessity. I want to celebrate our victory. Everyone loves a good celebration."

Arturia dropped the subject. She was in too good a mood to argue about it. Their quest had been a resounding success, and Arturia didn't want to spoil it.

Enkidu reverted back to his human form. Banged up, covered in mud and bruises, there were ugly fang marks on Enkidu's forearms. They didn't appear to bother him, and he otherwise seemed fine. Enkidu smiled at them, unperturbed by the violence and the carnage around them.

"Will there be feasts and music and dancing when we return?" he asked.

Gilgamesh opened his mouth and then grunted and knelt. He looked a little dazed.

"Are you okay?" Concerned, Arturia approached him. Gilgamesh shrugged.

"Just tired. That battle required a lot of mana," he said. She felt his forehead. His skin was clammy and warm.

"You have a temperature." Arturia fretted over Gilgamesh, brushing back his bangs. It was damp with sweat yet finer than silk, and she fussed with his hair more than strictly necessary. Gilgamesh chuckled and grabbed her wrist.

"Some food and rest will take care of it, mother," he said. Arturia glared, but it lacked any sort of bite. She took his hand and pulled Gilgamesh onto his feet. "And to answer your earlier question, Enkidu, there will of course be much feasting and dancing upon our return. Uruk will be a very merry place indeed!"

"Oh, how exciting!" Enkidu exclaimed. "Shamhat told me all about Uruk's incredible festivals. I wonder what she is doing right now. Do you think she misses me?"

"I'm sure she does," Arturia said.

"Never mind that." Gilgamesh's stunning lack of tact was on full display. "Uruk's festivals are the greatest in all the land. It is indisputable."

"Will they serve bear?" Enkidu asked, and Arturia snorted.

"No, thank the gods. Just remembering the taste makes me want to vomit," Gilgamesh complained. "Arturia, what are the festivals like where you came from?"

The inquiry caught her off guard. Arturia blinked. They began to move away from the destroyed meadow, cutting through the path Arturia's Noble Phantasm had plowed. It would be a long trip back to Uruk, but she found she didn't mind that fact.

"There is Christmastide, of course," she said. "It takes place in the winter, and lasts twelve days. Much of it is spent celebrating the birth of God's son. People give one another presents – Kay always carved me little wooden animals. It is a beloved tradition for my people."

Gilgamesh and Enkidu both were intrigued by this information, and bombarded her with questions. Arturia answered as best she could. There was something about focusing on the happier times of her kingdom that helped ease the weight on her chest. Arturia remembered how, when she was a child, the king's men would often visit around Christmastide. Sir Ector would pitch such a fit in the weeks leading up to their arrival. Recalling the memory put a smile on her face.

The forest seemed far less threatening now. Why had she ever been nervous traversing it in the first place? Compared to the wild, overgrown jungles of Britannia, the cedar forest was but a tame copse of trees.

There was a commotion as Gilgamesh stumbled out of nowhere. Before Arturia had the chance to ask him what was wrong, Gilgamesh dug something out of the burnt soil. A frown adorned his face, and only grew wider when he tugged free the charred remains of a human skull. The trio stopped.

Something hard coiled in Arturia's gut. She got on her knees and dug as well, finding more bones scattered throughout the dirt. There were _so_ many. It struck her that they could very well be standing atop a massive graveyard. Had Humbaba done all this? Her hand clenched into a fist.

Gilgamesh set the skull down, unreadable, and glanced at Arturia. She stood and continued moving. Justice had been served. There wasn't any use in dwelling on it further. Still, Arturia's heart ached that she couldn't save these nameless, forgotten skeletons. They had been people, once.

They moved on, the atmosphere a bit more somber than before. Arturia forced the group to break for camp several hours later, when she noticed Gilgamesh somewhat lagging behind. He protested out of pride, but she refused to back down on the issue. Gilgamesh was too tired put up a fight, and relented. They decided to give Enkidu a chance at redemption and catch something halfway decent for dinner.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" Gilgamesh asked out-of-nowhere. He leaned against the trunk of a tree and watched her with drowsy eyes.

"What do you mean?" Arturia replied. He smirked; a bad omen.

"You tried to kiss me. Before," Gilgamesh said.

"I did not." She immediately went on the defensive. Arturia could feel her face heating up. "I was just dizzy."

"Dizzy," Gilgamesh repeated.

"Yes. Due to blood loss." Arturia took a sudden interest in her fingers. She didn't meet his incredulous stare.

"That is impossible," he said. "Sanjeevani restores your full health and mental fitness."

"Well, it hadn't quite taken effect yet," Arturia retorted. "Besides, friends don't kiss friends."

It was quiet. Then, softly, Gilgamesh asked, "They do not?"

"No." Arturia relaxed. The situation was under control. Somewhat. Gilgamesh looked pensive.

"But I want to kiss you." It was the earnestness of his response that really got to her. Arturia's heart stuttered and her breath hitched. She swallowed.

Because, if she was honest, Arturia wanted to kiss Gilgamesh too. And she was certain she'd never felt that way about any of her knights – not Bedivere, not Gawain, and definitely not Lancelot, who Arturia considered her best friend.

"Well, you don't always get what you want just because you want it, Gilgamesh." It came out angrier than she intended, because Arturia was in truth upset with herself. How had she allowed this to happen?

Gilgamesh stared at her. His eyes narrowed. Arturia felt as though he peered straight into her soul. She shifted, uncomfortable, but met his gaze out of sheer, stubborn pride.

Before Gilgamesh spoke, Enkidu returned. He'd caught some fish in a nearby creek. Grateful for the distraction, Arturia helped him roast the fish on spits. She could feel Gilgamesh watching her, and goosebumps erupted along her arms.

Enkidu chattered away as they ate, oblivious to the tension in the air. Halfway through the meal, Gilgamesh dozed off. Arturia woke him and prodded Gilgamesh into his tent, ignoring his loud whining. Gilgamesh passed out almost before he hit the bedroll. Arturia went back to the fire where Enkidu still nibbled at his food.

"How are your injuries?" Arturia asked, realizing she'd been too busy worrying over Gilgamesh to attend to Enkidu. The green haired shapeshifter smiled.

"Oh, Humbaba took a good chunk out of me. But it is nothing I cannot handle," he said, cheerful and pleasant as ever. Arturia studied her fish, observing the flaky outer skin. It was a very familiar dinner for her. Almost comforting, in a way. Like wearing a well-worn pair of boots.

"You did well, when you fought on your own. Abandoning comrades is not usually how I operate in a battle," Arturia said. Enkidu's expression was blank and uncomprehending. Then he brightened.

"Oh, that! Thank you. I enjoyed having Humbaba all to myself. Almost, what is the word, cathartic?" Enkidu said.

"You do not care for Humbaba," she said. He looked at the flickering flames.

"He hurt people," Enkidu murmured. "People who were weaker than him. They could not fight back, even if they wished to. Some of the accounts I heard, at the watering hole, some of the things I witnessed… of course, I did not much care, when I was just a beast. Is it strange, how much the welfare of those I have never known now affects me?"

"I wish I could say it was not." Arturia's response was half-hearted. She thought about Gilgamesh, and felt ill.

 _You and I are not so different, King Gilgamesh._

Enkidu read her like a book.

"You just compared Gilgamesh to Humbaba, did you not?" he asked.

"There are striking similarities," Arturia said after a moment. "I can't help but wonder if we are more willing to give Gilgamesh a chance, because he has a pretty face and a clever tongue."

Enkidu appeared contemplative. His round, cherubic face was troubled. Arturia searched for answers in the fire, but found none.

"Did you know, I was created on the same day Gilgamesh was born?" Enkidu finally said. She looked at him. "The gods have grand plans for him. Very grand, indeed. His life has always been strictly regimented, for all the freedom he seemingly has. Stray one way or another, and he is punished and directed back onto his path. Humbaba, on the other hand, is a victim of neglect. His father, Enlil, set him in a forest and allowed him to do as he pleased with no consequences. Vast power with no boundaries, and Humbaba abused it. Until now, no one stopped him."

"That sounds more like an excuse than anything," Arturia said.

"Then let me put it another way. You know Gilgamesh better than anyone, Arturia. Tell me truly, if Gilgamesh was left alone in a manner similar to Humbaba – do you think he would hurt anyone? Develop such a reputation for wanton violence that it would reach the southern city-states?" Enkidu asked.

Arturia went very quiet. She drew her arms around her legs and rested her chin in the crook of her elbow. Her brow furrowed.

"No," Arturia said. Her words were an act of faith. "I believe he would not."

"And that is the difference between the two," Enkidu said. "More than that, Gilgamesh is young. He still has the propensity for change. The older you get, the more set in your ways you become. Gilgamesh has not yet crossed the line of no return. Humbaba did a long time ago, and he never looked back."

…

 _Arturia lay atop the Round Table. She could feel the grain of the wood against her back. It was freezing cold._

 _Gilgamesh pressed down on her. His weight was heavy and solid. He trailed his mouth along her throat, kissing the soft juncture where her neck met her shoulder. It felt like being branded with hot coals. Arturia sighed and twined her fingers in his thick hair, tugging Gilgamesh closer._

 _Around the table stood her trusted knights. They watched the proceedings, and silently passed judgement. In their eyes burned righteous indignation._

 _But as Gilgamesh slid lower, lower, lower, Arturia found she didn't much care what they thought._

…

Arturia awoke sweaty and irritable. She wasn't sure if she'd just had a dream or a nightmare or some unfortunate mixture of the two. It figured that one of the first non-memory dreams she had since arriving would revolve around a sexual fantasy with Gilgamesh. Arturia touched her neck and then scowled.

It was early morning, and life buzzed loud and energetic amongst the trees. The creatures of the forest seemed far livelier following the death of Humbaba. Restless, Arturia decided to wake Gilgamesh and Enkidu. She suddenly wanted to get as far away from this accursed place as possible.

Arturia found Enkidu had crawled into bed with Gilgamesh, and both were still fast asleep. She watched as their chests rose and fell, their deep breaths providing an underlying rhythm to the world.

Controlling her growing temper, Arturia nudged Gilgamesh with her foot. He twitched and blinked blearily, locking eyes with her. Then Gilgamesh's expression hardened. He sat up. This movement stirred Enkidu, who yawned.

"Let's go," Arturia said. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." Gilgamesh stretched and brushed past her. Enkidu sleepily followed suit.

Arturia stared after Gilgamesh, shocked by his blasé attitude. Observing the rigid tension in his shoulders, she realized that he was angry with her. Arturia stared at his turned back and tried thinking of something to say. In the end, she just helped pack up camp and then trailed behind Gilgamesh as they continued their trek.

Arturia didn't quite know how to handle the situation. Gilgamesh had never been legitimately mad at her before. Was this because she'd spurned his advances? The possibility raised Arturia's own ire. She crossed her arms and her mouth formed a thin, flat line.

Once again, Enkidu was forced to carry the bulk of the conversation. Not for the first time, Arturia felt impressed with the green haired man's ability to infuse energy into even the most mundane conversations. Neither Arturia nor Gilgamesh paid him much attention, however, as they were too busy ignoring each other. Most of their responses were limited to grunts and monosyllabic answers.

Waiting for them beyond Ishtar's gate was a man. There was something vaguely familiar about his countenance, although Arturia couldn't pinpoint what or why. He was touching the trunk of a tree. When he turned to face them, his eyes were a deep, dark gold.

The overcast sky grew more sullen still, and a bitter wind picked up. Arturia, Gilgamesh, and Enkidu froze.

"The cedar forest has not been this chaotic for two hundred years. I wonder why," said the stranger. Arturia recognized him in a flash of insight; he was one of the bandits she'd driven off days earlier. It was clear that another entity spoke through the man. He talked with the cadence of one accustomed to power.

"Lord Enlil," Gilgamesh said, confirming her suspicions. Enkidu dropped onto his knees and bowed. Arturia inclined her head but remained guarded. Her instincts screamed that they were in terrible danger. A tongue of lightning forked across the sky. The clap of thunder that followed left her ears ringing.

"Curious, that you are so far from your city, King Gilgamesh," Enlil said.

"Humbaba is slain," Gilgamesh replied. "I killed him."

Enlil stared at him.

Then the god of storms moved. Perhaps it would've been more accurate to say that everything else froze. One minute he watched Gilgamesh, the next Enlil had the golden king by the collar of his shirt. He hoisted Gilgamesh into the air as though the young king was weightless, and Enlil's golden gaze shone with divine fury.

" **HOW DARE YOU. HOW _DARE_ YOU?!**" There was no rain, only howling thunder and blinding lightning. " **YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO SLAUGHTER MY BLOOD? I KNOW OF YOUR HUBRIS, KING GILGAMESH, BUT I DID NOT REALIZE THE EXTENT OF YOUR FOOLISHNESS. UNFORGIVABLE! HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR PLACE?! I SHOULD KILL YOU AND SCATTER YOUR LIMBS TO THE FOUR WINDS, YOU STUPID FUCKING MUTT.** "

Arturia was enraged. She stepped forward and drew upon Excalibur. A vice grip grabbed her shoulder, and she spun around. Enkidu looked at her, and in his eyes warned the threat of imminent death. Gilgamesh made a choking noise, struggling for breath. His hands clawed at his throat. Every second Arturia stood there and did nothing was the most agonizing second of her new life.

"… Do it, then," Gilgamesh spat out. Enlil grew still. Then he dropped Gilgamesh with an expression of immense disgust on his face. The lightning storm halted as abruptly as it had begun.

"There will never be another like Humbaba," Enlil said. "He was a beautiful and unique individual, of far more worth than filth such as you. You will regret your actions, King Gilgamesh. Food will crumble to dust in your mouth, wine will sour on your lips, and everything you hold dear will be ripped away from you. You will _never_ know joy. I curse you forevermore."

Then the body of the bandit collapsed, dead before he even hit the ground. Enlil was gone. Gilgamesh lay sprawled out, his chest heaving and his eyes wild. Arturia moved to reassure him. She was still white faced with anger. Her nails dug crescent-shaped grooves into the palm of her hand.

"Gilgamesh –?"

" _Do not touch me_!" Gilgamesh shouted, jumping onto his feet. His words felt like a punch to the gut. He stormed off, shoulders shaking with visibly suppressed rage.

…

A melancholic pall descended upon the group.

Even Enkidu was withdrawn and reserved.

Fitting, Arturia observed, that a victory she'd partaken in felt like a failure. Her thoughts went around and around, a dog chasing its own tail. They walked with heavy hearts and heavy minds until night fell. Gilgamesh kept his own council, brooding and upset. He made himself scarce while Arturia and Enkidu set up camp.

She found Gilgamesh by the river. They sat side by side and didn't speak for a long time. The argument they'd had earlier suddenly seemed unimportant. Moonlight danced on the surface of the Euphrates. Arturia marveled at how warm and welcoming the river was compared to the cold, impenetrable ocean that surrounded Britannia.

"I should not have yelled at you," Gilgamesh finally said. "That was unfair of me."

Arturia could see the red line marring his neck, where his clothes constricted his wind pipe.

"It's okay," she said. "I've lost count of the number of times I've yelled at you. It evens out."

Gilgamesh chuckled and then hung his head. "Do you even like me?"

She hadn't expected that question. She hadn't expected it to hurt, either. Arturia always believed that similar ideals and beliefs were required for two people to enjoy one another's company. In retrospect, it was a rather narrow-minded way of viewing the world. Then Arturia had been afraid that, by forging a relationship with Gilgamesh, she would condone actions of his that she found reprehensible. Perhaps that, too, was utter foolishness. If there was one thing Arturia had a knack for, it was being a fool.

"Of course," Arturia said. "Yes. I like you very much, Gilgamesh. I'm glad I met you."

Gilgamesh smiled. Then it faded.

"I want – I thought of a metaphor. I wanted your opinion on it," he said. Arturia tilted her head, and then nodded to encourage him. Gilgamesh took a deep breath.

"There was a dog. A puppy. From the moment this puppy was born, it was placed in a cage. It was a beautiful cage, yes. Made of gold and interlocking like solid water. But it was still a cage that it could never leave. The puppy was kept well-groomed and well-fed. In exchange, it observed everyone else. And yet, as it grew older and bigger and stronger, it realized that it was trapped. And that made the puppy, now a dog, unhappy. And there are other dogs. They are not as well-groomed or well-fed. They have cages of their own, but not as beautiful. These dogs are leashed and allowed to leave from time to time. They say outside the puppy's bars, 'what right do you have to be unhappy? I struggle just to survive every day. My cage is rusted and small compared to yours. You should thank the gods for your blessings.' The dog began to resent the other dogs, and they began to resent him in turn. No one ever seemed to realize the root of the problem. The problem were the cages, and the ones who put them all in there! And when the dog attacked the other dogs, _they_ are surprised. _They_ said, 'it must be punished. It has done a bad thing.' _They_ beat the dog, over and over. And eventually the dog stopped fighting, just laid down and gave up. Helpless even when it was being hurt. It stopped caring and just waited to die. In its mind, it could do nothing of worth, stuck as it was in a cage."

Silence reigned while Arturia absorbed Gilgamesh's story.

"Killing Humbaba was an act of defiance," Arturia said. She understood, then.

"I hate them," Gilgamesh said bitterly. "I hate all of them so much, Arturia."

"They were right to stop you," she replied after a pause. "You should not have hurt your subjects."

"You think any of them cared about those people being _hurt_? They were upset that I challenged their _authority_ ," Gilgamesh said, outraged and disbelieving.

"Regardless of the reason, you were in the wrong," Arturia said. He appeared sullen. "If you want to fight your oppressors, you need to take the battle to them. Harming those who also suffer doesn't accomplish anything."

Gilgamesh blinked. Then he became shy, and stared at his reflection in the water.

"Before, you said you did not consider them to be gods – they were not worthy of worship, you said. Arturia, what makes one worthy, in your opinion?" he asked.

Arturia contemplated the question. She'd read through the entire Bible four times in her lifetime, three of them forced and once of her own choosing. She'd never liked going through the Old Testament. It was full of fire and brimstone and the fury of God. Laws and despair were all she found in those books, sprinkled with a promise of hope.

Then she reached the New Testament, and it felt like the fulfillment of a void she hadn't quite known existed. Faith realized. Although Arturia on (rare) occasion doubted the existence of a man of God, born to the Virgin Mary in the city of Bethlehem, she always believed in what he stood for. Always believed his teachings were of value.

How depressing, that in the end, her reign emulated the former far more than the latter.

"Grace," Arturia said, "and love."


	14. Wings of Freedom

_"Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?"_

Arturia had trouble sleeping that night.

Nightmares plagued her. Death, sex, and memories bled together. She didn't know what belonged to her and what didn't. Arturia awoke early. The sun broke out over the horizon. It looked like it would be a gorgeous day.

She went to walk along the riverside. The others still slumbered, and she didn't disturb them.

Arturia took off her shoes. Wet sand filled the space between her toes. She thought about Britannia. Kennels. Sir Ector's homestead. Becoming an ant. That time Lancelot unseated her. Guinevere's expression when she learned the truth. Gawaine kneeling and begging forgiveness after killing a woman. Her half-sister's naked beauty. War. Endless war in pursuit of an unreachable ideal.

She picked up a stone and skipped it across the water's surface. Arturia felt melancholic. The stone bounced again and again and again and then sank. She wished she hadn't been such a worthless king or a useless human being. Arturia wondered if the gods of this place would save her people, if she asked. All the dead soldiers and raped virgins, alive and well. She'd have converted in an instant if they ensured such a feat.

A shadow flitted across the morning sky. She saw it dip and dive lower. An osprey. The hawk flared its wings as it approached the river. Droplets of water sprayed everywhere; sunlight refracted through liquid crystals and looked like gold. The osprey gripped in its talons a fish making a futile bid at continued existence. Its scales flashed silver.

Arturia recalled the pastime of gentleman. Falconry. Ornery birds, often, but nothing was more satisfying than working a hunt with a gyrfalcon. She made a resolution that, upon returning to Uruk, she would capture and tame a hawk. Perhaps Arturia would gift it to Gilgamesh. She knew he would like that.

Burdened with unknown purpose, Arturia stepped out onto the river. Beneath her feet the water solidified. She took a step. Then she ran toward where the osprey had been. She watched it fly away with its prize. Under her more fish swam about, unaware that one of their own would soon be dead, if it wasn't already, oblivious to the fact that it was almost their own fate.

They were stupid creatures.

"Arturia?"

Gilgamesh.

She turned toward him. He stood on the shore and gazed after her. In his eyes flickered an emotion she didn't recognize. Arturia returned to Gilgamesh. She felt foolish, like a little girl caught dreaming of romance.

"I wanted to think about what we discussed last night," she said by way of an explanation.

"I did not know you could walk on water," he said oddly. Proud, Arturia smiled and put her hands on her hips.

"It's a gift from the faeries," she said. Gilgamesh reached out and touched her shoulder. Arturia blinked. Then he dropped his hand and smiled. She could feel the lingering warmth echo where he'd gripped her.

"Shall we wake Enkidu?" he asked.

Arturia nodded and they did just that.

Then the group continued their homeward bound journey.

The further the trio moved from the cedar forest, the brighter and bluer the sky became. Gilgamesh seemed different, too. She didn't know how to describe Watching anything else became difficult.

He brought out a disk. Somehow Gilgamesh roped Arturia into playing fetch with him. Enkidu giggled and volunteered to be the thrower.

Enkidu recoiled. Then his arm whipped forward. The disk soared fast and free, a curving arrow shooting across the earth.

They took off, sprinting after it. Arturia pumped her arms. In the back of her mind, she marveled at Gilgamesh's impressive athleticism. She was a ghost of the future given a physical body, and yet he kept pace with ease. However, Arturia still outran, quick and agile.

Arturia leapt and plucked the disk out of the air. The movement was both graceful and yet, somehow, awkward. Then Gilgamesh careened into her, grinning, and she shouted. The two tumbled to the ground and wrestled in a furious tussle over the toy. If someone spied them from a distance, they would've looked like two pups cavorting in a field.

She tried breaking his hold and scrambling free. But Gilgamesh didn't fall for the same trick twice. He pinned her, forcing her to drop the disk with the twist of his wrist. He harbored an obscene amount of strength. He laid atop Arturia for a moment, and they both panted and choked out laughter. Then they stopped and stared at each other.

Her heart started beating fast. Artuia could feel his erection pressed against her leg. Gilgamesh froze, and in his eyes she saw lust burgeon. Then it drained away and he leaned forward. His words were hot against her ear, and her breath hitched.

"Restraint." He smirked and scrambled free, disk in hand as he raced off. She slowly sat up.

Arturia walked back, frowning. Gilgamesh gloated with Enkidu. They both watched her approach, smug grins plastered across their faces. Annoying.

"You cheated," Arturia told Gilgamesh. "You stole the disk."

He straightened and became indignant. Enkidu's head swiveled to and fro as he observed the argument.

"I did no such thing," Gilgamesh replied. "The goal is to bring back the disk. It is not just about getting there first."

"It's poor sportsmanship," Arturia retorted. "I wasn't expecting to be blindsided."

The argument was friendly. Neither put much bite behind their words. Enkidu listened, his expression open and inquisitive. He had the look of one who wanted to hear both sides and then form his own conclusion.

"Ah, melodrama is beneath you, Arturia. There is nothing in the rules stating that I cannot win the disk even after you have caught it," Gilgamesh said.

"What rules? We were playing a simple game of catch," she said grumpily. "There are certain implied standards for this sort of thing."

"Then we should make them clear. That is why laws exist," Gilgamesh said. "I do not understand how anyone can expect to know rules that are not actually rules, but implications. You win or you lose, doing so 'wrongly' is irrelevant."

"That's false," Arturia said. "How you win is just as important."

Gilgamesh looked thoughtful.

"Is chivalry a game?" he asked. Taken aback by the non-sequitur, Arturia then took offense to it.

"Of course not. It's a way of life." Arturia hesitated. "At least, that's how it should be."

"I like games. They are fun," Enkidu said. "What is this chivalry?"

Arturia explained the concept. She felt she did a better job the second time asking.

"That sounds nice," Enkidu said. "But I feel like doing it would make you miserable after a while."

"And why is that?" Arturia asked.

"Because helping people is difficult," Enkidu said. "Often they do not want help, they want to be left alone."

"It's supposed to be difficult," she responded. "That's what makes it worthwhile."

"I am skeptical," Gilgamesh said. "What is worthwhile is the self and all things dedicated to the self. Chivalry as you describe it seems dictated by others. It is like a wrestler who competes because his parents forced him, rather than because he has a passion for it."

"If you act chivalrous only to be validated, you're not truly being chivalrous. That's untrue and therefore dishonorable." They began walking. Arturia was a little uncomfortable at having her beliefs questioned, but for the most part the discourse remained laid back and civil.

"That does not make it better, that makes it worse. People are incentivized by pleasure. If they are not allowed to feel good about their actions, why should they ever bother?" Gilgamesh asked.

"Because it is right," Arturia said. "People have obligations outside themselves. You know this. We are communal by nature, and thus there are expectations and duties that must be followed, even if it does not benefit us personally."

"I do not agree," Gilgamesh replied.

The discussion meandered along with the path. Neither Arturia nor Gilgamesh had any intention of budging on their views, and at some point they both recognized this fact. Thus the conversation shifted to rather mundane topics.

Arturia was surprised by how much she enjoyed herself. The opportunity to hash out the specifics of her philosophy through amicable debate, to have it challenged at every turn, wasn't something she'd experienced since her tutelage under Merlin. It was both invigorating and pedantic. How surprisingly simple it was to talk with most people, when both sides were treated with respect.

More than that, Arturia enjoyed Gilgamesh and Enkidu's company. They were _fun_ to be around. She liked them. And she liked Gilgamesh a lot. This truth terrified her.

…

After they ate dinner, Gilgamesh pulled a curious object out of his Gate.

"What is that?" Enkidu asked.

It was crafted from gold. Intricate patterns inscribed the tube's flowing form. A long spout protruded out the side. It rather looked like a strange tea kettle. Arturia recognized it; Merlin owned one.

"That's a hookah," she said.

"I named it Enlil," Gilgamesh said grandly. "But that is unimportant. What matters is we can smoke from it."

Enkidu snickered. Arturia was torn between snorting and shaking her head.

"Is this wise?" she asked.

"You should be honored by the opportunity to blow Enlil, Arturia," Gilgamesh said. Enkidu lost it and howled with laughter.

"I'm surrounded by man-children." She wrapped her arms around her knees. But Arturia smiled.

"I want to try," Enkidu said, recovering. He sounded excited. Gilgamesh grinned but glanced at her. In his eyes lay a question. Arturia hesitated and then shrugged. She was intrigued as well. Merlin never let her use any of his toys.

Gilgamesh filled it with cannabis. They lit the hookah up. He gave Arturia and Enkidu their own mouthpieces. Gilgamesh inhaled first, and he exhaled with a lazy smirk. Smoke poured out of his mouth and he reminded her of a dragon. He became blurred and indistinct, his red eyes glowing embers in the murk. Then her turn.

The smoke tickled the back of Arturia's throat. She breathed out. It took several seconds for the high to hit. As Arturia passed the stem to Enkidu, a wave of anxiety struck her. Everything wobbled and the world felt off-kilter. Her heart raced. She wasn't in control, one of the few things Arturia couldn't abide.

"Relax," Gilgamesh said. He never stopped watching her.

Arturia trusted him. She forced herself to succumb to the uncertainty. Her muscles lost their tension and she drifted along on a lethargic wave. There was something wonderful about floating along, not worrying about anything, not caring about anything, even if only for a little while. Just existing without sadness or anger or fear or regret.

They continued taking turns smoking the hookah.

"You know, something has been nagging at me since we fought Humbaba." Enkidu's words took on a dreamlike quality. "I want to know if, when he had vaginal sex, he could perform cunninglingus simultaneously."

Arturia choked and sprayed smoke everywhere. Her eyes burned and she began laughing. For some reason she didn't quite understand, Arturia thought Enkidu's question was hilarious. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that. Arturia didn't think she'd _ever_ laughed like that. Hard enough to leave an ache in her gut. The term 'side-splitter' suddenly seemed quite apt.

A few tears slid down her cheeks. Startled, Arturia stopped. When she blinked, she could feel the dampness of her eyelashes against her skin. Gilgamesh leaned forward and brushed the tears away with a forefinger. He had been quiet and intent the entire time, although he still smiled. His touch felt like a brand against her sensitive skin.

She laughed for no reason.

It took a while for the giggles to subside. Especially since it set off Enkidu, which in turn got Arturia going again. Then silence at last.

"You know," Arturia said. "If that snake penis of his truly was both a reproductive organ and sapient, it led a miserable existence."

She felt sad then. But the feeling passed on the cloud of her high. Arturia figured she would've been sad under normal circumstances. Although under normal circumstances she wouldn't engage in such a ludicrous, juvenile topic.

"If that existence is all it had ever known, why should it be miserable?" Gilgamesh asked. The response was absentminded. He peered at his hand, now, as though it were the most fascinating appendage he'd ever seen.

Arturia contemplated the question.

"Because it can observe the world, and knows there is life better than that which it has been dealt... a fate it could do nothing to prevent."

The fire crackled as the trio thought this over.

"What are we even talking about?" Enkidu asked.

They all started laughing again, and it took a long time for them to stop.

…

The next day all three were hungry, red-eyed, and suffering from cottonmouth.

Arturia wondered what the hell she'd been thinking while Enkidu and Gilgamesh bathed in the river. She heard their shouts of merriment as they goofed off. Arturia caught herself thinking improper thoughts and bit her lip.

She needed to keep her emotions under wraps.

Arturia cleaned up in the river after them and returned to find both cooked breakfast. It smelled excellent. Gilgamesh spoke rapturously of some spice Arturia never heard of before. She smiled and nodded.

She felt happy.

There was nothing wrong with that.

Why did she feel like there was?

Arturia decided to ignore the question.

The next few days were peaceful. The only event of note happened when they crossed paths with a group of shepherds. They loved Enkidu and acted nervous yet respectful of Gilgamesh and Arturia. Gilgamesh also seemed reserved, keeping his distance, and she wasn't much better.

The shepherds expressed excitement upon learning of Humbaba's defeat.

"We should go to the cedar forest!" exclaimed one youthful man. "Now that it is safe."

"Why? We are shepherds, idiot," said another.

"Because it's there," retorted the young man. "And I've never seen so many trees in one place. I want to see a real forest before I die."

Being among other people again was strange. It would likely be a microcosm of their return to Uruk. They bid the shepherds farewell.

And then, almost before Arturia knew it, there lay Uruk on the horizon. The walled city evoked a curious mixture of feelings within her.

"You know," Gilgamesh said. He also peered in the distance. His expression was impossible to read. "You know, it took a long time to build those walls. My people and I both toiled to make it happen. It is an impressive achievement."

"I know," Arturia said.

Enkidu watched them.

"Walls keep people safe," Gilgamesh said. "They also keep people out."

"I know," Arturia said again.

"I may not be a good man, but I am a good king," Gilgamesh said. Arturia stared at him, solemn.

"You believe that?" she asked.

He smiled, but he almost appeared sad. The emotion was bizarre on Gilgamesh's elegant, haughty features. He seemed like another person entirely.

"Let us go home."


	15. Tipping Point

_A/N:_ I wish ffnet didn't make it such a pain in the ass to edit past chapters. Urgh.

* * *

I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you."

The guards must have seen them draw near. Arturia, Enkidu, and Gilgamesh arrived at the main gate and found people thronging within. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as their king strode beyond the wall's shadow. They fell silent when Gilgamesh paused and swept his regal stare over them. Then he threw his arms wide.

"Humbaba is no more!" Gilgamesh proclaimed, voice booming forth. "I decree that the next week will be dedicated to feasting and celebrating!"

Everyone cheered and milled about. The mood exploded, raucous and joyful. The cacophony rose to a fever pitch. Enkidu looked overwhelmed.

"There are so many people," he whispered to Arturia. Distracted, she tore her gaze away from Gilgamesh.

"What?" she asked. Enkidu repeated himself, although now he seemed amused. Arturia flushed. "Ah. Yes. I suppose."

She'd never given it much thought. Arturia looked at them. Really looked at them. For much of her life, she'd seen others as a Cause to Fight for. So many shapes and sizes, despite the majority marked by dark skin and dark hair. Young faces and old faces, tired faces and fresh faces, all found in equal measure.

They wound through the city toward the palace. Excitement burst from every corner, in the eyes of every person; their king had come home. For Gilgamesh was as much theirs as they were his. The realization both disturbed and delighted Arturia.

Suddenly Enkidu's eyes lit up and he sprinted toward someone garbed in white. He tackled Shamhat, and she fell over with a thump.

"Enkidu!" Arturia ran and pulled him off the priestess, concerned for her safety. But Shamhat chuckled, gently disengaging and brushing off her clothes as she stood back up. She studied Enkidu, her expression fond. He popped onto his feet and a large, bright grin decorated his face.

"Hi!" he said. "I found them."

"So I see," Shamhat said. "I never doubted you."

Enkidu swelled with pride.

"How fares the city?" Arturia asked.

"It remains," she said.

"What are you doing?" Enkidu asked. Shamhat tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and appeared bashful.

"I heard about the festival. I was considering purchasing a new dress for the occasion," she said. Enkidu perked.

A heavy arm fell across Arturia's shoulder then. She blinked and realized Gilgamesh snuck up on them. Careless and cheerful, he slung the other arm over Enkidu. The divine harlot bowed.

"Come along, come along, you two. There will be plenty of time later for talking. Preparations are in order," he said. Arturia eased out of his grip and wiped her clammy palms on her dress.

"Oh, Gil. Shamhat is going shopping. May I go, too? I want to see the marketplace and meet more people!" Enkidu asked, almost pleading. Gilgamesh blinked and glanced at Arturia. She shrugged. Shamhat looked scandalized.

"Very well. Would you like to accompany them?" he asked Arturia. Surprised, she thought about it. The idea appealed to her.

"I don't know, do you need me for anything?" Arturia replied. Gilgamesh tilted his head.

"There will be affairs I must settle, but they can be settled alone," he said. "Prevent Enkidu from destroying anything important."

Enkidu snickered and Arturia's mouth twitched.

"I suppose," she said, "as long as Shamhat doesn't mind."

"I would be honored," said the priestess. Arturia hesitated, scrutinizing Gilgamesh.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

His expression flickered. Then he smirked and puffed out his chest.

"No, no, no. I have business to attend to. Kingly matters, you would not understand."

Both Arturia and Enkidu snorted. Gilgamesh withdrew an engraved cylinder from his treasury. The carvings depicted a man wrestling a lion, framed by the setting sun. It was made of pure gold.

"Take this. You may trade it for anything you desire." He smiled and pushed it into Arturia's hands. He clasped them for a moment, touch gentle and face intent. She nodded, her cheeks warm.

"Yes. Thank you, Gilgamesh."

…

The marketplace smelled of urine and feces, human sweat and animal hide. All baked with clay and forged by sweltering heat. Arturia didn't mind. She'd handled far worse before.

Merchants hawked their wares, taking advantage of the upcoming festivities to entice sales. Jewelry and clothing in particular sold fast. It was crowded, chaotic, and clamorous. Several recognized Arturia and moved aside for her.

"You and the King seem much closer," Shamhat said.

They waited for Enkidu to finish a conversation he'd struck up with a beggar. More than once the beggar burst out laughing. Years shed away, mirth smoothed worn creases and deep wrinkles, and he appeared animated in the face of friendly kindness.

It seemed Enkidu couldn't go ten feet without becoming distracted by another person. Arturia rather envied his natural, effortless charm. She knew she had her own charisma, as did Gilgamesh, but it was a different breed.

"There is more to him than I first thought." Arturia coughed, embarrassed, and shifted. A chariot trundled past, pulled by onagers, maneuvering through the narrow paths with a nimble ease born from practice.

"I am glad," Shamhat said. Arturia didn't know how to respond. Enkidu saved her from answering. He flew toward them, long green locks whipping about in the breeze.

"May I have some money?" he asked, gesturing toward the beggar.

"Of course." Shamhat handed Enkidu a few shekels of silver. "This should afford him some meals from the temple."

He thanked her and bounded back. Arturia watched and smiled. She enjoyed the company, and they were in no hurry. All the people crammed into a narrow space made her uncomfortable, however. Every few seconds Arturia bumped elbows with someone. The contrast to the openness of the road proved stark.

The group meandered through the market at a leisurely pace. They chatted. Shamhat elaborated on Uruk's state, although there wasn't much to tell. The high priestess and the city elders had been more than capable handling affairs in Gilgamesh's absence.

"How do you do it, Enkidu?" Arturia asked out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"You make friends with everyone you meet. How?" she clarified. Enkidu thought about it.

"I would not say we are friends. But. I like meeting people. And I like letting people know that I like meeting them. You would be surprised, how many enjoy that. Just knowing someone cares enough to look up and smile. Say hi. It is a little thing, but little things matter too. Sometimes both you and Gil are so…" Enkidu threw out his arms. "Important decisions! Life and death! What does it mean? I do not know. Maybe it does not mean anything. Maybe it does. But, well, I just want to be happy, and I want other people to be happy, too. And I am content trying to achieve that. Does that make me ignorant?"

Arturia didn't have an answer. Neither did Shamhat. They mulled over his response.

Shamhat brought them to a small home tucked away on the corner of the marketplace. Inside it was cool. Beautiful dresses stood on display. Bright dyes and various patterns hung from busts, and the little shop burst with unrestrained passion.

They met an older woman, dark hair streaked grey and white. She embraced Shamhat and kissed her.

"It's good to see you, m'dear," said the woman. "Yes, yes, very good indeed. Radiant as usual, not that I'm jealous or nothing."

Of course not," Shamhat said, tone reasonable, "you are handsomer than ever, Lilith."

"Ha! See how she flatters me?" Lilith turned toward the others. "That's how I know she wants something."

"Preferably at a cut price." Shamhat giggled. "A beautiful dress to commemorate the occasion."

"Of course, of course. For the festivities, yes? Something truly sumptuous for you, m'dear. And your friend, the king's friend, she wants something, too?" asked Lilith.

Startled, Arturia blinked. Beside her, Enkidu shifted and cocked his head.

"Do not presume, Lilith," Shamhat chided. "This visit is for me alone."

"Actually, may I look around?" Arturia asked. Enkidu chimed in too, expressing interest.

"There. You see, m'dear? Ishtar herself blessed me with the Sight. A very specific Sight, revolving around keen business sense."

Lilith appeared satisfied while Shamhat seemed amused if a little exasperated.

"You should thank Ishtar you do such good work."

Grinning, the seamstress launched into conversation with Enkidu, who bombarded her with questions. Arturia went about touching each individual dress, feeling the texture. She remained deep in thought.

Then Arturia discovered a beautiful silver dress. It flowed in her hands like liquid water. She stroked it, marveling over the sleek design. The cloth felt light and airy, opposite her heavy wool clothes in every respect. Tight and form fitting, she could've never worn such an outfit in her time.

Arturia wanted the dress.

"This." She turned toward Lilith and then remembered her manners. "Please."

Lilith chuckled.

"Of course. But that dress appears too long for you, m'dear."

"I see."

"I'll adjust it. Can I take your measurements?" Lilith asked. Arturia nodded.

The others perused the shop. Enkidu and Shamhat discussed their options with the seriousness of those planning a raid.

Clucking, Lilith prodded and poked Arturia. She didn't enjoy people touching her, but tolerated it. Being dressed in armor provided a similar experience to fall back on.

"You done good work, you know," Lilith said. "To hear Dagan speak of you, you're nothing but trouble. Don't move!"

Arturia kept still, but her brow furrowed.

"Dagan is convinced he's cursed," Lilith explained, spying Arturia's expression. "He always moans about how all the gods hate him. By Anu's beard, not a day goes by when he isn't crying about that damn roof of his. 'Ah, poor me, my roof! The sun shines hot and unflinching and when rain falls I'll surely die of sickness! Ah, how can I fix my roof when Ishtar's Temple is being rebuilt at the same time? Surely I'll give offense and be smotten. Smoted. Whatever. Woe is me!'"

Lilith shook her head.

"Oh." Arturia felt guilty. "That was my fault."

"So what?" Lilith poked Arturia's shoulder. "You did a good deed. If anyone's at fault, it's – never mind that. Dagan will survive, and he'll get his damn roof back. Although his complaining might kill us all before that happens. Some people complain too much. Not that you can't, but certain types, you just want to tell them to shut the fuck up after a certain point. Pardon the language. Anyway, in my opinion, you're a hero."

"I'm no hero."

Arturia declared it with absolute certainty. She suffered from a peculiar form of self-centeredness. Everything that could be Arturia's fault was her fault. She bore the flaws of others as her own. They decorated her head like a crown of thorns.

Lilith realized she'd made a mistake and fell silent. When she finished her measurements, Arturia thanked her and handed her the golden cylinder. Shock decorated Lilith's features as she turned the priceless object over and over again.

"Arturia, that is worth far more than a singular dress." Shamhat noticed the proceedings and hastened toward them.

"I decide what the dress is worth. And it is worth it."

...

Arturia remained upset.

She brooded over a man she'd never met but who she'd wronged. Arturia realized she hadn't been absolved in a long time. Various duties neglected since arriving in this ancient world. Her hands twisted and clenched fistfuls of thick wool.

She kept her head down, staring at the ground, as they walked back. A cleared throat alerted Arturia to the votary.

"Rimat-Ninsun requires your presence," said the young girl, shy and nervous.

Arturia remained impassive, but her stomach dropped. Enkidu looked surprised, while Shamhat seemed resigned.

"We'll meet you at the palace," she said. Arturia nodded.

She followed behind the votary. Arturia questioned the girl as to the nature of the summons. But she didn't know anything, and terror defined her responses. Therefore the northern king let the matter drop, if only for the other girl's peace of mind.

Upon arriving at Ninsun's temple, Arturia changed and went through purification rites. She stepped into Ninsun's inner chamber. Cold froze her breath. Liquid dripped somewhere. Soft and steady. It kept a perpetual beat, like a ticking clock.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The goddess peered down at her, golden-eyed, striking and intimidating. Arturia almost knelt but changed her mind at the last moment. She bowed her head instead.

"Congratulations on defeating Humbaba." Ninsun held herself unnaturally still, as if carved from stone. On her hand flashed a bright red cross.

"Thank you," Arturia said. "For Enkidu as well."

Ninsun smiled. Then she became troubled.

"Yes. Enlil is furious, of course. A price must be paid. Blood feuds are dangerous." She waited. Arturia stayed quiet. Ninsun pursed her lips. "There is another matter. About your influence over Gilgamesh."

Uncomprehending, Arturia stared.

"You are not the only one who has had visions. Ishtar warned me of them. The implications are… troubling." Ninsun sighed. "I believe she miscalculated."

"I apologize," Arturia said. "Could you clarify?"

A rustle. Ninsun drew forth a goblet and drank from it. Her lips were pale on a painted face. Arturia wondered, then, if that body belonged to the goddess. She felt nauseous.

"Quite frankly, you are dangerous," said the goddess. "You are intended to be Gilgamesh's friend, not fill his head with foreign nonsense."

"… What?" Arturia kept her emotions under wraps. Stand straight. Clear eyed. Stay calm. Her breathing slowed and steadied. Don't show weakness. Never show weakness.

"Gilgamesh is a man of Uruk, not of Britannia. He follows our ways," Ninsun said. "The ways of the gods."

"You think I'm trying to convert Gilgamesh?" Ice crept into Arturia's tone.

"Your beliefs belong to the future. Not here. Not now."

"My influence is not so great. I'm not sure Gilgamesh believes in anything. Or anyone."

"You provide support." Ninsun sounded clear and pointed. "You must not intervene."

"With all due respect, what Gilgamesh needs in his life is a little intervention, as opposed to everyone standing aside and letting him do as he pleases."

The atmosphere chilled. A weight settled on her chest. Arturia found herself forced to kneel as her knees buckled. Nausea overwhelmed her, and she became violently ill.

Arturia vomited. Spoiled milk coated her tongue. Ninsun watched, blank faced, as she retched. White liquid spilled down Arturia's face and pooled on the floor. The sound mingled with the dripping water like an off-note. Humiliated, she wiped at her mouth.

"Arrogant Saber," Ninsun said. Her tone didn't change, but her words froze the air. "Do not presume to know what is best for my son."

"… I don't," Arturia said through gritted teeth. The weight lessened and the heaving stopped. She kept her mouth shut.

"We will not imitate failure." It was a low, cruel blow, and they both knew it. "Let Gilgamesh be his own man."

Arturia bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed. The tang of blood mixed with the lingering aftertaste of milk.

"Understood. Master."

"Good." Ninsun considered her. "Enjoy the festivities."

…

Later that night, Gilgamesh invited Arturia to dinner.

She wasn't hungry, and stared at her meal while he rambled from the other end of the table. Gilgamesh spoke quickly, dancing from topic to topic. His excitement over the upcoming celebrations was palpable. He also complained about the high priestess, irritated with her meddling.

Arturia listened, but stray thoughts distracted her. Rooftops, and a man named Dagan, and droit du seigneur, and spoiled milk. She still tasted the spoiled milk.

Thud.

Gilgamesh pulled up a seat next to her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "I heard you visited my mother."

Arturia stilled. She didn't want to tell him what happened at the temple. She knew Gilgamesh would defend her, but she refused to come between him and his family.

"No, not that. Just – all the people. Again. It's a little unsettling, after all this time away." Arturia prayed he wouldn't see through her lie. Gilgamesh stared, and then smiled.

"I understand. I often feel the same way. You did not enjoy visiting the marketplace, then?"

"No, I did. Shamhat and Enkidu are good people," she said. "I'm pleased with my purchase."

"What did you get?" Gilgamesh looked curious. Arturia almost told him, and then felt playful.

"I don't want to say." She turned solemn. "It's a surprise."

He blinked.

"Well, now I must figure it out."

Arturia kept a straight face and exuded a mysterious aura. She thought of something else.

"It was nice, how excited everyone was."

"Naturally!" Gilgamesh declared. "This will be the grandest feast ever known! At least until the next one."

Arturia smiled.

"In my time, we put together quite the tournament or two."

"You should tell Enkidu that. He is convinced you never have any fun, just sit around moping all the time."

"I can be fun." Arturia went on the defensive.

"I think you are hilarious," he said, unhelpfully.

"I don't mope!" she exclaimed, offended and indignant. She would challenge Enkidu to a duel over it, if need be.

"Well, I would not go that far."

Arturia chuckled and took a bite of her meal. Her appetite returned with a vengeance, and she ate in earnest. She drank her wine, washing away the bad taste.

"I could set up a tilting tournament. Train a couple soldiers, demonstrate for them. I know how to have a good time," Arturia insisted. Gilgamesh thought about it. He grinned.

"That is a good plan. Tell me more."

Arturia engaged him. Haltingly at first, and then, as she warmed up to her own idea, the words flowed free. They discussed logistics and safety protocols. Excited, Gilgamesh threw himself headlong into the conversation.

The more Arturia spoke, the further away her dark thoughts receded. Gilgamesh burned bright, driving off the shadows and the wolves. When with him, she didn't feel quite so alone.


	16. Celebrate

A/N: Just wanted to give a quick shout out to everyone that's read/reviewed this story. Y'all are awesome and ridiculously patient to boot.

* * *

 _"All happy mornings resemble one another, as do all unhappy mornings, and that's at the bottom of what makes them so deeply unhappy: the feeling that this unhappiness has happened before, that efforts to avoid it will at best reinforce it, and probably even exacerbate it, that the universe is, for whatever inconceivable, unnecessary, and unjust reason, conspiring against the innocent..."_

Arturia felt strange.

Her new dress clung to her form. It exposed her in a way that left her vulnerable. Arturia touched her bared shoulders and frowned. Then she swallowed and stepped out to let Shamhat see the outfit.

Shamhat giggled as Arturia strode toward her. The priestess pressed her palm over her mouth. Arturia paused.

"What is it?" asked Arturia.

"Oh, I am sorry. I could not help it – the way you walked, it is, well, different from how most here wear a dress," Shamhat said, smiling the smile of someone embarrassed. "There is nothing wrong, I just had not expected it, is all."

Arturia plucked at the silken material. "Perhaps this was a mistake."

No, no," Shamhat said. "You look beautiful."

Strange disquiet returned with a vengeance. Arturia glanced at Shamhat's braids. Many of the women in Uruk now mimicked Arturia's hairstyle. The unintentional effect discomfited her.

"It is quite comfortable," she noted.

"It looks comfortable," Shamhat agreed. Her eyes landed on Arturia's bun. "You know, I do not believe I have ever seen you with your hair down."

It only happened twice, during the audiences with Ninsun. Arturia hesitated.

"I don't want it getting in the way." She brushed aside her bangs and her mouth twitched. Shamhat laughed.

"Perhaps in honor of the final day…?" she said. After thinking about it further, Arturia decided to give the suggestion a try. If she didn't like it she could always put her hair back up.

"Very well."

Arturia sat down. Shamhat moved behind her, hands gentle as they untied Arturia's braids. Waves of blonde hair fell above her shoulder, and she felt less exposed. Shamhat took a brush and combed through Arturia's hair.

"Not many in Uruk have this color, you know," Shamhat said.

"Yours is much nicer." Arturia remembered how soft Shamhat's hair felt. In comparison, her own was coarse and unrefined.

Guinevere had lovely hair too. Red curls the color of blood. Arturia first noticed her hair. It preceded her like a character all its own. Arturia had never been in love with Guinevere, at least she didn't think so, but she loved Guinevere's hair like few other things in that life.

 _That_ life. What a curious thought.

"Well, I would hope so. I have the time and need to care for it. You are a warrior," Shamhat said, laughing again. "Speaking of, how goes the tournament? Everyone is excited to see your northern ways displayed."

Arturia didn't respond at first.

The prior week passed in a whirlwind of music, and dance, and sport, and food. The people of Uruk knew how to celebrate, she quickly learned. Optimism reigned supreme; Humbaba's death signaled the gods' approval of King Gilgamesh. No doubt the city would prosper and flourish as a result, many said.

She tried enjoying the festivities. But Arturia harbored a strange disquiet, born from the conflict with Ninsun, and it only grew with each passing day. She ignored the feeling for the most part, determined not to dampen the pervading good cheer of everyone around her.

Arturia spent much of her time training soldiers for the jousting tournament. Due to a lack of proper equipment or experience or even the right breed of horse, she decided sticking with tilting at rings and targets would be for the best (much to the chagrin of her eager young protégées). She half-expected trouble from the soldiers, but they acted polite and respectful toward the woman who fought their king on equal terms.

"Good," she said. "I think you will enjoy it."

"I know I will," Shamhat replied. Finished, she ran a finger through Arturia's hair. They bid each other farewell, planned to meet up again at the feast, and went their separate ways.

Arturia handled a few matters. She felt somewhat foolish walking about the palace in her new silver dress. Arturia talked with Basheer the architect, who assured her that the reconstruction of Dagan's roof would begin in earnest after the festival.

"And you will talk with King Gilgamesh about the builders' pay?" he asked.

"Yes. You have my word," Arturia said. Basheer smiled and then blushed, looking at his feet.

"We are in your debt."

Arturia searched for a stable boy who'd been helping her capture a falcon. The endeavor proved more difficult than she anticipated. She would have preferred an eyas, but she might have to settle for a passage or even a haggard. Maybe that would be better, anyway. Training hawks from birth was notoriously difficult and could easily go wrong.

Along the way she ran into Gilgamesh.

He dictated to a scribe in the throne room. He glanced at her, looked away, and then did a double take. Gilgamesh smirked.

"You no longer like your own attire, then?" he asked, teasing her. Arturia stayed composed, although she felt a little irritated. Could Gilgamesh at least pretend to be awestruck? But, no, he wasn't some blushing virgin.

"I still like my clothes very much. But I thought I might wear something nice for the final banquet."

"It is indeed quite nice," Gilgamesh complimented Arturia. Her mood improved, and then she felt like an idiot. She shouldn't care what he thought about some stupid dress.

"Well. If you must know, this is what I purchased earlier in the week," she said. Gilgamesh blinked.

"That is the surprise? Well, well, well." He grinned and Arturia huffed.

It occurred to her that they hadn't spent much time together the past week. Funny, because before the journey to the cedar forest, such a fact would've pleased her.

Both were busy, Gilgamesh in particular, and she realized she'd missed him. Often Arturia would glance over her shoulder, expecting him to be there, and feel a peculiar stab of disappointment when he wasn't. Even if they were together, like now, a scribe or priest always seemed to be hanging about Gilgamesh's ear.

"Forget it. I'm leaving," she said.

"I shall come with you. Dismissed," Gilgamesh said. The scribe bowed and left. "I am excited for the tournament!"

"Everyone is, it seems. Hopefully it'll live up to expectations."

"It will be grand," he said, confident and enthusiastic as ever.

Arturia smiled and fell into step with Gilgamesh. She felt misgivings, briefly, and then contentment.

…

A long, cordoned off rectangle signaled where the jousting would take place. Soft sand cushioned any potential falls. In the center a quintain had been erected for the combatants to strike with their lances. People already gathered, chattering and milling about. Palpable excitement crackled in the dry air.

Everyone parted for Gilgamesh and Arturia. He sat beneath a shaded tent, and she joined him. Gilgamesh took a goblet of wine and sipped from it. He looked laid back and cheerful. Enkidu popped up.

"How convenient that you appear when I break open the alcohol," Gilgamesh said. Enkidu snickered and accepted his own drink. "Arturia?"

"I suppose."

The three friends enjoyed their wine together. Soldiers trickled out, astride horses, dressed in leather armor and carrying brightly colored lances. People cheered and Gilgamesh leaned forward, bearing an expression of great interest. The tournament began in earnest.

People enjoyed watching the soldiers gallop down the sandy runway, waving their impressive lances in the air. Rehearsed, melodramatic speeches about honor and valor happened often. Everyone loved it, Gilgamesh included, although he seemed to find the whole ordeal more hilarious than anything. Bets were placed on those whose aim proved true, and fan favorites quickly emerged.

One man in particular the crowd took a shine toward; he proved to be a trouble maker and an incorrigible dare devil. He rode bareback, wore little armor, jeered at the other combatants, and even performed tricks while riding. His antics worried and irritated Arturia in equal measure.

"He knows the risks, yes?" Gilgamesh looked amused when she raised her concerns. "You trained him well. If he gets hurt, no one else is at fault but him."

"He's my responsibility. Of course it's my fault if he gets hurt," Arturia fretted. Gilgamesh grinned and rested his chin in his palm, scrutinizing her.

"Then teach him a lesson."

Arturia thought about this, and concluded that the advice was sound. She approached the young lad and offered to joust with him if he won. He accepted the offer, clearly excited over the prospect.

"Rings are all well and good, but I want an actual challenge," he said. Arturia nodded.

The young man went on to win the tournament. Arturia kept her word and challenged him to a duel.

"Your hubris will be the end of you," she thundered, throwing her voice, a neat trick Merlin taught her. Her armor glittered silver in the hot sun, and Arturia sweltered under the heat.

"Ha! We shall see!" said the young man, playing along. He appeared rather nervous. A hush fell over the crowd.

She unseated him on the first charge. And then again.

"Are you all right?" Arturia asked as he lay flat on his back, winded and red-faced.

"Never better," he sputtered. "Thank you."

The crowd cheered.

"You were magnificent!" Enkidu bounced on the balls of his feet when she returned. "He never stood a chance! Right, Gil?"

"Incredible," he agreed. Arturia wasn't quite know why, but she flushed at the look in Gilgamesh's eye. "And fun."

Enkidu seemed a little abashed. Arturia didn't gloat, because she was better than that, but she maybe was somewhat tempted.

"I was not even the best jouster in my time. That honor fell to – others," she said, modest.

"This is not your time," Gilgamesh pointed out. Arturia frowned and turned solemn.

"Yes. I know."

…

Arturia wore the silver dress and let her hair down once more. She hadn't expected to like the feel of it as much as she did.

They set the banquet out in the open, on massive tables. Milk and honey and alcohol flowed freely. The cooks of the palace offered the best of the best for their people and their king and their gods. Music rang out, bright and cheerful.

Gilgamesh asked Arturia to dance. She accepted.

"Enjoying yourself?" he murmured, hands on her hips. She enjoyed that, at least, even though she probably shouldn't.

"Yes," Arturia said, keeping pace with Gilgamesh. The dances of Uruk were less regimented and less reserved than the ones back home. She reigned in the impulse to take the lead, but ensured space remained between the two of them.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You have been distant and distracted all week."

Startled, Arturia froze. She stepped back.

In the background Humbaba's head watched them. True to his word, Gilgamesh erected it upon a spike, and it presided over the festivities. Humbaba's melted face appeared nigh unrecognizable, and flies buzzed about rotten flesh.

"I'm fine."

Gilgamesh stared. Night darkened the city, and people lit bonfires in response. Shadows writhed across his face.

"I believe you. I just – you are happy?" He sounded strange.

"I don't know. I'm trying. What more do you want?" Arturia suddenly felt frustrated. The illusion she constructed shattered, then, and of course Gilgamesh was the reason why. Bad milk soured the back of her throat.

"Nothing. I do not want anything, I swear," he said. "Not from you."

"Everyone wants something. Especially you."

Gilgamesh looked hurt and Arturia hated herself.

She pulled away to eat some food and relax. People continued drinking more and more alcohol, and the proceedings grew drunker in the process. Dancing turned to caressing and then became even more intimate. The city fell in love with itself and she could only stand aside and watch. Arturia went looking for Shamhat and found her kissing Enkidu. Someone tried touching Arturia and she jerked away.

Arturia needed to be alone.

The walls were quiet. She witnessed the merriment from above. A few couples made love atop the rooftops. She ignored them.

"Oh? And why is my adorable little Saber all by her lonesome?"

Arturia turned and spotted Ishtar. She knelt without thinking, and averted her gaze from the goddess's naked body.

"Ha. Rise. I am pleased you know where your loyalty truly lies." Ishtar smirked. Her divine glow lit up the area. The walls took on a golden sheen.

"It has been a while," Arturia said.

"For you."

Neither spoke, then. They observed Uruk in silence.

"You no longer find Gilgamesh abhorrent?" Ishtar finally asked. "And do not lie to me. I am the goddess of love for a reason."

"If you know the answer, why ask?" Arturia replied.

"Because I feel like it. Impertinence does not become you."

Arturia swallowed. Tasted thick, ropey saliva. The heat pushed against her, as did Ishtar's intense presence.

"I – he has potential for goodness," she said. Ishtar kept quiet. Arturia took a risk, then. "Is that body yours?"

A beat. Then Ishtar grabbed Arturia by the chin and forced their eyes to meet. "Everything I desire belongs to me."

Ishtar relaxed and Arturia staggered back. Her face hurt as though burned. Warm healing energy flowed through her and the pain faded.

"Then what makes you better than the man who hurt others for his own amusement?" Arturia asked. Now Ishtar appeared bored.

"Pedigree." The goddess looked at her nails. "This city is mine. It will always be mine, even long after the sands of time erodes it away. I protect it. Those who stand with me, I lift them up. Those who stand against me, I bring them down. It is that simple. Why be good when you can be great?"

"It is wrong."

"I decide what is right and what is wrong." Ishtar looked up. Her golden eyes glittered. "I respect you, Saber. You understand your place in the world, unlike a certain deluded half-breed king. However. What you believe does not matter. What _they_ believe, what you _want_ them to believe… that is where true power lies."

Arturia hunched her shoulders and ducked her head. She felt miserable.

…

Gilgamesh waited for her in her room. He smelled like sex and alcohol. Arturia required approximately one second to recognize his intoxication.

"Where did you go?" he asked, finding his feet. He swayed. "I looked for you everywhere."

"Just wanted to be by myself. Get some sleep, Gilgamesh."

"Everything was for us." He threw out his arms. "To celebrate us! There is no meaning to any of it if you leave."

Arturia sighed and closed her eyes. She collected herself. First Ninsun, then Ishtar, and now this.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm tired," she said.

He moved closer. Arturia tensed but held her ground. Gilgamesh took her hand and kissed her wrist. Her pulse increased and her breath caught.

"Gods, you are beautiful," he murmured, words shivering along her skin.

"Gilgamesh, _don't_." Arturia broke free.

"Why not? And do not lie. I see the way you look at me – I am not blind." A whine crept into his tone. She bristled.

"You're drunk. I'm serious, Gilgamesh, what you need is sleep." Arturia glared. He glared back, matching her anger with his own.

"I am mostly god, I need nothing!" he said. "If anyone needs anything, you need to face reality. Intimacy scares you. Sex scares you. Admit it."

"I'm not _scared_ ," Arturia exploded. "You're so full of shit! You, who wields sex like it's a fucking weapon. How could you ever understand? It has only ever been a tool for procreation and a means to inflict pain. My kingdom destroyed because my father raped my mother, because I fucked my sister like she was some common _whore_. Neither of us intended for events to turn out the way they did, but that doesn't matter, now does it? Don't you dare condescend to me, Gilgamesh, I am no child. Countless hurt or dead because people cannot think with the proper head. Countless! I dream about their corpses every fucking night, all the people I couldn't save – I, I couldn't... So you'll excuse me if it's not exactly something I'm keen on, you goddamn narcissistic _cunt_."

She trembled with rage. Gilgamesh looked at her, shocked. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then sat down, seemingly at a loss for words.

Arturia's fury drained away. She became ashamed for losing control, especially since much of her anger wasn't directed toward Gilgamesh. The dam broke and he received the worst of it, because she knew she could strike back at him and suffer little to no repercussions.

"Let's get you to bed," she muttered. Docile like a lamb, Gilgamesh leaned against Arturia for support and they walked to his room. There Enkidu and several others, buck naked, lay passed out. The green haired man roused himself as she ushered Gilgamesh under the covers, nudging another drowsy person out of the way in the process.

"Arturia...?" he asked, slurring her name. "You want to join us?"

"No. Go to sleep."

Enkidu obediently flopped onto his stomach and buried his face into a pillow.

Arturia turned on her heels and walked out. Out of the room, out of the palace, out of the city. She found a grassy knoll and laid down.

Restless, Arturia watched the moon and the stars. They set and the sun rose. Nearby the Euphrates gurgled and babbled nonsense. Something whispered among the reeds. She reverted to her old clothes and hairstyle. They brought Arturia a familiar comfort.

She sensed Gilgamesh approach long before he arrived. He knelt beside her. She sat up.

"I have the worst headache," he said.

"I wonder why."

"Because I drank enough wine to kill an ordinary man, I imagine."

"That'll do it," she said.

Gilgamesh sat with his legs apart, leaning on his hands. He relaxed, but his red eyes held an odd glint.

"I do not remember much about last night. But I remember most of our conversation. I... I apologuhhh – perhaps I miscalculated," he said.

Arturia threw him a startled look. He studied the horizon, too proud to meet her gaze. She didn't know when her goal changed, when she wanted to protect Gilgamesh instead of Uruk, but in that moment she realized the shift.

"There were outside factors at play. And you were not – you weren't exactly wrong. I'm not absolutely opposed to us being, uh, intimate." Her cheeks reddened and he swiveled toward her. "I just, it's something I need to think about. I'm not ready right now. And, Gilgamesh, I'm not sure I'll ever be ready. I know it might not seem like it, but I'm still figuring things out myself."

He contemplated her response.

"We are still friends?"

"Of course." Arturia nodded.

"Okay." Gilgamesh looked relieved. "I understand. But, Arturia, you could have told me that sooner, you know. Even all the way back in the cedar forest. You do not have to hide from me."

"Old habits die hard," she said after a long, thoughtful pause.

"Yes. That is true."

They observed their surroundings and didn't speak. A bird soared above them. The sight jogged her memory.

"I've been trying to catch a falcon for you," she said. Gilgamesh blinked.

"That is kind. I did not consider getting you anything." He almost sounded guilty.

"Don't worry about it." Arturia laid back down, peering up at the sky. Gilgamesh followed her lead, but she felt his eyes on her. She faced him.

"I like your regular dress," he whispered. "It _suits_ you."

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Her mouth twitched.

"Impressive, I know."

"Don't be absurd." Arturia hesitated. "Although it's nice. Having options."

More silence.

"What if we just left," Gilgamesh blurted out. "Just walked away. The two of us and nothing else. No more duties, or rights, or festivals, or – or anything."

"I thought you said you couldn't do such a thing?"

"I cannot. But is it not a pretty thought?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so too."

The weather was perfect. Not too hot and not too cold. Grass tickled her skin. Exhaustion hit Arturia, then, like a ton of bricks. She hadn't slept all night. Her eyelids drooped.

"Oh... also... the builders want a raise," she mumbled. Gilgamesh chuckled. The warm noise lulled her further to sleep.

She wasn't sure if what happened next actually happened. It might have been a dream. Gilgamesh scooped her up and cradled her against his chest. He carried her back to Uruk, warm and gentle and safe. She heard his heart beating, steady and true.

 _Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum..._


	17. Before the Storm

A/N: This chapter... I spent a long time debating how exactly I wanted this chapter to go down. This chapter and the next are, well, critical for setting up the final act of the story. Writing it was one of the hardest things I've done in a long time. Not so much motivation, more... artistic license. If that makes sense. A lot of this is me reinterpreting the Epic, not just through the Fate universe's standpoint, but from a standpoint espousing my own thoughts and ideas. I hope it's okay. :/

* * *

 _"_ _I missed you even when I was with you. That's been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing."_

Gilgamesh and Arturia played a board game together. The game was backgammon, although neither referred to it as such.

To win at backgammon, one must move all their tokens to their respective side of the board. Roll dice to achieve this goal. Different colored tokens could not occupy the same space. If the opponent's token landed on a space, or point, occupied only by one token, they could claim the point and move the other token onto the bar (the center of the board).

Arturia rolled. Dice clattered against stone. She frowned. Shamash the lion wandered by and rested his chin on her lap.

"This game is based entirely on luck," she complained, and not for the first time. Arturia stroked Shamash's mane. He rumbled his pleasure and drooled a little onto her dress.

Several months had passed. The weather cooled with the advent of the rainy season. Gilgamesh and Arturia fell into an easy rhythm. She hadn't expected it to be easy, but she had been wrong. When Arturia couldn't spend time with Gilgamesh, she trained with soldiers or met with Shamhat and Enkidu. Peace flourished in Uruk, and Arturia felt content.

"There is luck involved, yes. And how you react to your fortune helps determine the victor. But the skilled player will win more often than not." Gilgamesh smirked.

"You only say that because you always win through bullshit," Arturia said. "What am I supposed to do when you're constantly getting great rolls?"

In response, he grabbed the dice, placed them in a cup, and started shaking. Gilgamesh grinned and held the cup close to his ear. Shamash's ears twitched.

"I am sensing doubles." He rolled. "Well, what do you know. And now you dance."

"That's incredibly irritating," Arturia said, watching him move his tokens with obnoxious arrogance. He placed them down, slow but sure, savoring each and every play. "Can you not?"

"You just need to get good." Gilgamesh laughed upon spying the expression on her face. She kicked him from under the table and he retaliated with a playful nudge of his own. Shamash jerked back, shot both a reproachful look, and then slunk away.

The war on a second front distracted them from their current task. Arturia dug her heel into the back of his leg. Gilgamesh laughed even harder and then something shifted between them.

He stopped and looked at her. Arturia's face warmed, and she slid her foot up and pressed it into his thigh. Gilgamesh still didn't speak, but his hand dropped underneath the table and he ran his fingers along her calf. She shivered at the light, trailing touch. Then Gilgamesh removed her leg from his vicinity.

"You cannot distract me from your complete and utter annihilation," he informed her. Arturia blinked and scoffed. Suddenly she breathed easy again.

"We shall see," she said.

Arturia lost.

"Ha! I am the greatest," Gilgamesh gloated. She frowned before taking the defeat on the chin.

"Well played."

He tilted his head, earrings jangling, and smiled.

"You too," Gilgamesh said.

Arturia felt warm all over again. Something tender and soft fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

"Do you want to go hunting later?" she asked.

Arturia had found him an eagle. A golden eagle, in fact. He named it Anu, and she taught Gilgamesh several tricks for training the bird of prey. Both enjoyed the pastime.

His expression flickered. Suddenly Gilgamesh looked strange. He cleared his throat.

"I cannot. I will be in meetings with the priestesses of Ishtar all day."

"Oh." Arturia nodded and concealed her disappointment. "Well, another time then."

...

Enkidu jumped onto Arturia's back. She staggered somewhat, surprised by the unexpected weight, and instinctively grabbed his legs to stop him from tumbling onto the ground.

"Arty!" Enkidu shouted in her ear. Arturia grimaced.

"You're going to break my back one of these days," she said, shrugging him off. Enkidu grinned and spun around her.

"No way, you are too strong. I am bored."

"What do you want to do?" Arturia asked.

"Well, I wanted to have sex with Shamhat. But she is busy." Enkidu pouted and Arturia sighed.

Neither ever acknowledged the fact that Enkidu had slept with Gilgamesh (had done so on several occasions, in fact). Thinking about it made Arturia's chest hurt, but she knew she didn't have a right to get upset. And for once, Enkidu displayed some tact and seemed to know he should keep quiet about it.

They walked down a series of long hallways. Servants passed them by, keeping a respectful distance. The day was cool and pleasant.

"Isn't that strange? You're almost identical." Arturia regretted the question immediately. She cut off Enkidu's response. "Forget it. Don't answer. I'd rather not know."

He laughed.

They decided to spar. Arturia had set up a training ring outside the palace. A couple soldiers and citizens gathered, recognizing both and interested in the spectacle.

"Shield up! Bend your knees more." Arturia lightly rapped Enkidu's shoulders with her wooden sword. He adjusted but cocked his head to the side.

"Why do I need to do this? I can simply overpower most opponents," he asked.

Arturia frowned. They exchanged a flurry of blows. She caught Enkidu out as his form lapsed and disarmed him.

"Because when you fight someone equal to you in power, the difference will come down to skill."

Enkidu stared. Then he hurled his shield at her head. Startled, Arturia ducked aside. He took advantage of the distraction and barreled into her midriff, knocking her over. They wrestled frantically for several seconds. Enkidu's skin felt cold. Arturia scrambled free, breathing hard. The small crowd laughed and cheered.

"What matters is ingenuity. Thinking fast on your feet," Enkidu said. He then beamed and waved at the bystanders.

"Or off them, as it were," Arturia retorted, somewhat acerbic. "But you miss my point. It is not one or the other; to think fast, you have to be able to not think about the little things at all. Rote mechanics are meant to be performed without thought put into them. This allows for concentration on that which matters."

"Fair enough," Enkidu said, after a moment of consideration. He ran and retrieved his shield. Arturia smiled.

Afterward they had lunch together.

"You know," Enkidu bit into his bread, "I feel a strange foreboding as of late."

Startled, Arturia set down her own food. "You as well?"

"The calm before the storm." He nodded.

"That's all it ever is, isn't it?" Arturia asked bitterly. "Moments of peace before the next one rolls in."

Enkidu never got the chance to reply. Gilgamesh came flying from around the corner, skidding to a halt in front of them.

"There you are!" shouted the king. "Come on, come on!"

He grabbed Arturia by her arm and hauled her to her feet. The urge to rip free of his grip assailed her. She followed him anyway, trusting that there was reason behind the boisterous manhandling.

"What's going on?" She broke into a sprint, forced to keep up with Gilgamesh's long stride. Enkidu watched them leave, still munching on his bread, brow knitted together.

"You shall see! No time to waste."

Gilgamesh dragged Arturia toward the royal menagerie. The enclosed area smelled of dung and tanned hide. It was dark and warm and the quiet sounds the animals made put her more at ease.

Arturia remembered home, her first home, with the kennel boy and Kay and Ector and Merlin and how simple everything seemed back then, before the sword in the stone, before the round table, before Mordred took off her helmet and everything fell apart.

In the back lay a larger, open space. A pregnant lioness, shifting and growling, dwelled within the enclosure. Two stable hands flanked her, talking softly to one another.

"Oh...," Arturia said.

Gilgamesh shushed her, leaning against the outskirts of the pen, watching the proceedings with serious intent. She followed suit, and together they observed the miracle of birth.

The lioness's flanks heaved and her nostril flared. Slowly, a slick sack of flesh emerged from her vaginal canal, slid free, and fell to the ground with a wet plop. The sight was simultaneously breathtaking and disgusting. They watched the lioness gnaw off the umbilical cord and lick her offspring clean. Mewling, the lone cub crawled toward its mother and began to feed.

The stable hands hung back, exchanging small, proud smiles. Arturia felt almost breathless, misty eyed. The newborn cub was so small and helpless and _cute_.

"I thought... I thought you might like the cub. As a gift," Gilgamesh whispered. "That way I no longer have to worry about you stealing Shamash out from under me."

Arturia stared, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

"I don't - how did you manage to keep this a secret?" she whispered back. Gilgamesh was terrible at keeping secrets from her.

"It was not easy," he admitted. "But the look on your face just now made it all worth it."

On impulse, Arturia hugged him. Gilgamesh stiffened and then relaxed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer. He smelled nice: of wine and sandalwood and pomegranate and underneath all the perfume, the clean scent that was simply him, a young, talented warrior king who had done good things and bad things, and maybe the bad outweighed the good, but it didn't matter anymore, not to her.

She rested her cheek against his chest and wished this moment between them could last a lifetime. Eventually, however, Arturia drew back and looked up at him.

"We should leave it be, for now. It does no good to be separated from your mother." She felt vulnerable, but trusted Gilgamesh enough to be unashamed in showing it. He touched her hair, running his fingers through her bangs.

"I think that sounds sensible."

Arturia thought he was going to kiss her. She wouldn't have stopped him. Instead Gilgamesh pulled away, leaning against the stall, expression troubled. He watched the lion cub suckle at its mother's teat.

"There is something I must tell you. Perhaps you already know, but, well, you remember when you told me about Christmastide?" Gilgamesh asked. Arturia hesitated and then nodded. "We also have an end of the year celebration. More of a fertility ritual. It is an attempt to appease the gods, so that when the mountain snow melts, the river does not flood or arrive late. We call it the sacred marriage, a symbol of Tammuz and Ishtar's union in the spring."

Arturia felt cold. She touched her arms and remained silent. One of the stable hands approached, respectful and submissive. He informed them, gaze averted, that the cub was female. Gilgamesh dismissed him.

"And you are Tammuz, then?" Arturia finally asked.

"Yes."

She thought of how distracted and out of it Gilgamesh seemed, as of late. And Arturia had barely paid attention, wrapped up in her own thoughts. While he noticed her unhappiness almost straight away. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

Arturia stifled the urge to tell him not to do it. 'Refuse,' she would shout, 'That is barbaric.'

But she remembered when Merlin approached her, warned her against marrying Guinevere, and she had done it anyway, because she felt she had no choice. They never did. There was only duty, another way of saying responsibility; responsibility swathed in tradition. The yoke hung heavy on their shoulders.

In the end, Arturia said nothing.


	18. Sacred Marriage

_"I hated myself for going, why couldn't I be the kind of person who stays?"_

Gilgamesh stood before his mother. Rimat-Ninsun reached out, touched his face, and tucked a stray bang of hair behind his ears.

"You should smile," she noted. He knocked her hand away but didn't answer.

Gilgamesh wore vibrant ceremonial garb; cloaked in a bright red shawl, embroidered with gold, the fabric flowed like blood granted solid form. Multiple gold necklaces hung heavy around his neck and bared chest. A pair of glittering earrings adorned him. He shone with the glory of the gods.

Ninsun frowned. She considered Gilgamesh. He met her gaze evenly. A yawning abyss of nothingness rendered him impotent. Gilgamesh felt empty inside. He always felt empty, in truth, but it waxed and waned with the approach of the one day he loathed above all others.

"Understand that I love you, Gilgamesh," she said, and adjusted his clothes. "You will always have the blessing of Rimat-Ninsun."

Gilgamesh nodded.

He strode through the halls of Egalmah. Votaries and slaves and priests and priestesses stood aside and let him pass. They kept their eyes turned down. The world took on a dream-like quality, colors muted and noises distant. Then Gilgamesh's father, larger than life, hairy arms folded, leaned against the temple's walls. He provided a dark contrast to the pale brickwork.

"Hey," Lugalbanda said.

"Father."

Lugalbanda opened his mouth and then shut it. He rolled his broad shoulders, cleared his throat, and then looked away. "'S a fine day, yeah?"

"Beautiful," Gilgamesh said blandly. The weather was indeed excellent. Clear skies and gentle winds. Perfect for hawking. Something twisted in his gut.

"Well. Good luck, I s'pose," Lugalbanda said. "You ever need summin', don' be a stranger."

"As if you could ever provide me anything of need." Gilgamesh injected immense venom and scorn into his words. Lugalbanda grimaced, looking away.

"'M just tryna... why you always do this? Whaddya want, Gilgamesh? Want me to say 's all my fault? Fine. 'M sorry I never been good enough, not for you, not for Ninsun, not for nobody in this fuckin' city. Happy now?"

Gilgamesh remained quiet. He stared at Lugalbanda, expression impassive. Then the prodigal son sneered.

"I do not blame you for your ignorance."

Lugalbanda looked hurt, which transformed into anger.

"Always blame with you, innit? Always gotta be someone's fault. I pity you, y'know. 'Cuz we all deal with crap in our life, and we don' go round making others miserable cuz of it. You know the difference between you and yer friend? When shit goes wrong, she tries to fix it. Might fuck it up, but at least she tries. All you do is get mad and break things. Maybe you a king, but you ain' a man. Sure are my son though, that much at least is clear."

Rage licked at the numbness. Gilgamesh swallowed and clenched his teeth. It faded and he walked past his father. He didn't deign to spare Lugalbanda a glance.

...

Gilgamesh stood in the rookery and stared at Anu. The golden eagle wore a hood and stood separate from the rest. Otherwise he probably would've tried to kill them. Fitting.

A draft blew through the building. He'd built it specifically for Anu. The other birds shifted and chattered amongst themselves. Gilgamesh wondered what they discussed in their strange language.

"I will be remembered," he told Anu. "Can you say the same?"

The bird ruffled his feathers but didn't provide Gilgamesh with an answer.

"Gilgamesh?"

Arturia.

He turned and saw her standing at the entrance. She stared at him, a curious expression on her face, paler than usual. Arturia said, "I wasn't – I thought… do you need anything?"

A light flickered in his chest, a candle struggling to stay lit in the breeze. Gilgamesh felt another twinge. One of the birds recognized Arturia and fluttered onto her shoulder, likely wanting food. She scratched its head.

"No," he said. Added, on impulse, "I wanted to see you. Before."

Arturia reddened. She hesitated and met his stare, as she always did. "Is that wise?"

Gilgamesh studied her. The past couple months had been strained and awkward between them. Tension both avoided addressing, in an effort to keep the status quo unchanged.

"I never claimed to be wise."

"I should probably go," she said.

The rookery's conversation flowed around them, indifferent to their presence. On another day, Gilgamesh might've been offended.

"You will not witness the rite?" he asked.

When he was with Arturia, it felt like the void had been filled by something – something gentle, that Gilgamesh never even knew existed within himself until he met her. Color bled back into the world, the blue of Arturia's dress particularly stark. And yet the thought of her watching him walk toward the temple hurt him.

"I... I can. But I don't want to," Arturia admitted. He tilted his head.

"And why not?"

"Because you don't want to be there," she said, slowly, as though with great difficulty. Gilgamesh stared.

"This is true. But I do not always get what I want just because I want it."

Arturia's expression changed, just a little, and the mood between them sharpened.

"No, I suppose not. Sometimes you have to fight for it."

He hadn't expected that. Trust Arturia to surprise him.

"You would fight for me?"

"Yes. If you ask."

She actually said it. In that moment he knew he loved Arturia more than anyone else in the whole entire world. Gilgamesh shook his head. Warmth displaced the empty ache in his chest. The candle flared into a bonfire.

"No. That would be foolish. But I... I am glad to hear it. That is what a best friend does, yes? Stands by your side, in your corner, even if... even if you are wrong. They forgive you and try to understand you when no one else will. The gods want to be our fathers, want to be our mothers, want to be our masters, want to be our lovers, but I might respect them if they tried to be our friends instead."

He moved closer. Arturia inhaled, the flush on her cheeks darkening and spreading along her neck. She stayed still. The bird on her shoulder fluttered away with an annoyed squawk. They both ignored it.

"I thought you couldn't be wrong," she whispered. Gilgamesh scoffed.

"I cannot. Not _everything_ is always about _me_ , you know," he replied, softly.

Arturia uttered a choked laugh. The skin around her eyes crinkled. Flecks of blue dotted Arturia's green gaze. He rested his forehead against hers. She felt clammy, her bangs silken and fair. She touched his shawl, and Gilgamesh's heart skipped a beat. Plenty of people had touched him, intimately, but it never felt half as good as her hands on him did.

"You look..." she began.

"Fantastic?" he asked.

"I was going to say something more along the lines of beautiful."

Arturia's small, calloused fingers pulled at his shawl and he dipped his head to meet her, their lips brushed together, hers chapped and cool and _soft_ , and something inside him purred, or maybe it would be more accurate to say the raging inferno mellowed under her touch, as her fingers wound their way into his hair, Gilgamesh knew he was lost to her, had never stood a chance, it felt like breathing for the first time, she said his name and he swallowed the sound with his tongue, his hands glided along her hips, how someone so hard could feel so soft, how someone so small could fit so perfectly against his tall frame, he didn't know, didn't care, nothing mattered anymore, there was only her, Arturia, pressing closer, kneading the back of his skull, her other hand splaying against his chest, pushing aside his clothes and jewelry, ice cold compared to his feverish skin, Gilgamesh returned the favor, tugging at her hair and dress, mouth gliding along her well-defined jaw and then tasting the flesh of her collar, she whimpered and urged him closer, ever closer, why they hadn't done this before now he didn't quite understand, but he would make up for lost time, he nibbled at her neck, taking the skin between his teeth and sucking, relishing in the way she gasped and arched from the contact, she stumbled forward, pushing back, he followed her lead, and –.

Gilgamesh knocked over Anu's perch. The eagle shrieked and they jerked apart, startled. His chest heaved, he struggled to draw in air. She, too, breathed heavy. Everything seemed bright. Too bright. He turned blind and mute. The birds around them were in an uproar, feathers everywhere, but he couldn't hear them or see them at all.

They stared at each other. Arturia's hair was mussed, half-pulled out of its bun, her lips swollen and begging for more kisses. Red bruises dotted her pale neck, obvious marks from his ministrations. Gilgamesh swallowed. He probably appeared almost as ruffled, which wasn't good, he must be pristine for the ritual.

Arturia looked away, trembling with pent-in emotion.

"We shouldn't have done that."

She didn't raise her voice, and yet her words cut straight through the cacophony. Gilgamesh had no response. Couldn't respond, mainly because it felt like all the air had been kicked from his lungs. In the end, he left without saying a word, leaving Arturia to clean up his mess.

...

Gilgamesh walked down the road, flanked by an honor guard. People prostrated in the streets, praying to the gods for salvation. Heavy incense had been lit, in an effort to mask the smell of unwashed bodies and shit. Priests recited the courtship of Ishtar and Tammuz.

He missed the numbness. Everything seemed too raw and real. Arturia's lips stripped it all away, and in their wake he became aware of the rage.

Gilgamesh was an angry person beneath the surface. Under it all, the disdain and the apathy and the emptiness, boiled fury toward the world for giving him everything except that which he wanted. Gilgamesh hated them, hated everyone, hated himself above all else. He would burn it all to the fucking ground if he could, reduce it to ash and rubble, and wander the desolate wasteland miserable until he fell upon his own sword.

Except Arturia. He could not hate her. Never.

(Although sometimes, maybe, just maybe, he resented her.)

Gilgamesh marched up the steps of Eanna Temple. He caught sight of Enkidu along the way, appearing uncomfortable and uncertain. Gilgamesh decided he didn't hate the green haired man as much as the others, either.

The curtain swished shut behind Gilgamesh and drums began to roll, leaving him alone with his duty.

...

Ishtar lay naked in bed.

She dwelled within the skin of Shamhat. It was jarring, seeing the goddess's golden eyes and bored expression on Shamhat's kind features. Gilgamesh sat across from her, drinking wine from a crystal goblet. It tasted like mud.

A whole feast had been laid out. Fine meats and rich vegetables decorated the table. The best the people of Uruk had to offer, in an attempt to appease their fickle gods. He didn't touch the food.

Ishtar observed him. Sprawled out and oozing arrogance. She said nothing for a long time, simply watched Gilgamesh consume cup after cup of alcohol. Her pert breasts rose and fell with every breath; her skin glowed with a divine sheen. Outside the faint sound of drums rolling could be heard. Eventually she spoke.

"Come to me," Ishtar commanded. "Let us be through with this farce."

He thought about the fact that he would have to fuck Ishtar while the taste of Arturia lingered on his lips (he could still taste her, even after all the wine). Something inside him snapped at the realization. Gilgamesh set his goblet down.

"No."

She stared at him.

"I shall assume you misspoke. Come. Here," Ishtar said.

"I will not," Gilgamesh replied.

Irritation flashed across her face. The atmosphere in the room became oppressive. Sweat beaded along his temple and trickled downward.

"Such impudence. And to think Saber implied you were less of a lackwit mongrel than before. Perhaps it was something other than common sense speaking."

"That is not her name," Gilgamesh said, his tone frigid.

"I will call her whatever I damn well please, for she is mine and I am the reason she exists, here, at all. How dare you speak to me in such a way? I, Ishtar, who grant those I favor great boons? The Ishtar who could harness your chariots with mighty demons of the storm, as though they were draft mules?

"Kings, rulers, and princes have all bowed before me, Ishtar; all have kissed my feet, brought me tribute, whether with their bodies or with gifts from the mountains and the plains. And I, Ishtar, in turn, ensured that their ewes bore twins and their goats triplets; their pack-asses outran their mules; their oxen had no rival, and their chariot horses won fame for their swiftness," she boasted.

Gilgamesh scoffed.

"Allow me to be frank, oh glorious Ishtar. I abhor you. When I think of you I feel nothing but the deepest depths of revulsion. Which of your little shepherds have you loved forever? One only needs to remember poor Tammuz, the mauve-colored bird whose wings you broke, to understand what you truly are. He still sits in the grove and cries, 'kappi, kappi, my wing, my wing –.'"

Ishtar stood in the blink of an eye. Her divine radiance flowed about her like another living creature. An unnatural breeze lifted her green hair in a halo.

"Fool," Ishtar said. "You speak of something you know nothing about."

Now Gilgamesh stood as well. His own rage exploded forth, freed from the confines of its apathetic shell.

"Do not demean me. _I am king of Uruk_ ," he shouted. "Tell me of the lion! Spry, proud, and you dug for him seven pits and seven pits. Or the stallion, for which you ordained the whip; you brought it about that he run seven leagues. His mother, Silili, you gave endless need for weeping.

"You loved a shepherd, a herdsman, who endlessly put up cakes for you, who slaughtered kids every day for you. You struck him, he became a wolf. His own boys drove him away, his own dogs tore him apart.

"And, of course, who can forget Ishullanu, gardener of your father, who turned down your advances, and thus you turned him into a frog. Ishtar only leads others to a doomed fate."

Ishtar almost appeared amazed listening to Gilgamesh rant. She laughed, a mirthless, unamused sound, and shook her head.

"You are rabid," she declared.

Then Ishtar slapped Gilgamesh. Hard. His head snapped to the side as white hot pain bloomed across his cheek. The sound resounded in the abrupt, claustrophobic silence. Or perhaps Gilgamesh simply couldn't hear anything else over the roaring in his ears. He touched the struck area; it burned under his soft fingertips. There would be an ugly mark. He slowly looked at Ishtar.

Gilgamesh lunged toward her, teeth pulled back into the rictus of a snarl, gold armor appearing about his body, although it seemed dull in the wake of Ishtar's own divine light. She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and slammed Gilgamesh into the ground. Her foot dug into his sternum, and he gasped as an unbearable weight settled on his chest. He was armored and she was naked, cloaked in the frail body of a priestess, but it made as much difference as a rush wall in face of a hurricane. His armor groaned and caved under Ishtar's might. Gilgamesh couldn't breathe.

"Who knew the great King Gilgamesh had finally grown a spine?" Ishtar asked mockingly. "Tired of fucking brides and slaves, then? You believe you can fuck with the gods? You believe you can fuck with _me_? You, an arrogant, entitled coward who never grew up, shielded from the world by the likes of Ninsun and Shamash and Ea and your own hubris. All you have ever done is punch down, because you know _this_ is the result when you attempt anything above your head. You are but a speck of dust in the wind compared to I, Astarte, Astghik, Anunitu, Agasayam, Irnini, Kilili, Inanna, Ishtar, Aphrodite, Venus."

"Before you were even a fetus in the womb, I led Uruk to glory, destroying places that threatened my treasures, encouraging men and women and women and men to make love, prosper and flourish and live. I, who provided Etana and his eagle with the miracle cure, granting him the means to have an heir. I, who advised your father, master of the Thunderbird, to deliver the blessed fish to the army and bring Uruk victory. Before all that, it was I, Ishtar, who journeyed to the underworld, realm of Ereshkigal, my sister, where she killed me and hung my carcass from a hook like a hunk of meat. I suffered for generations, until I escaped due to my loyal slaves, and found my husband sitting on my throne, he disrespected me, and yes, an exchange needed to be made, thus he took my place, and demons dragged him into that foul pit. You should be honored that I even speak with you, you should be lapping at my cunt like a dog dying of thirst, and begging for more when I have finished. Know your place, _boy_ , for you are _nothing_."

Ishtar applied even more pressure. Gilgamesh managed a strangled noise. His face bypassed red and turned stark white. He couldn't _breathe_.

The fiery rage in Ishtar's eyes died away. Her expression smoothed over. The pressure eased. She smirked.

"You are a drunk, much like your father. For Saber, I will forgive you. She deserves better. Now stand up, take your clothes off, let us finish the ritual, and I shall avoid gazing upon you for another year."

Gilgamesh thought about the proposition as he choked on precious, life-granting air. Then he inhaled, deeply, and spat at Ishtar. The glob of spittle soared high and true and landed on her cheek.

She stilled. Everything froze. The world held its breath. Slowly, Ishtar raised a hand and wiped away the spit. She stared at it as though it were a foreign object. Then Ishtar looked at Gilgamesh.

"You will regret that," she informed him. Ishtar walked out without another word.

Gilgamesh lay there, struggling to breathe, ruined armor hampering the process. He emitted a noise akin to a broken sob. The armor faded away. His expression turned eerily calm.

Eventually, he found his feet and left the room.


	19. The Rape of Lancelot

_._

 _._

 _._

* * *

 _"What did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think. I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."_

Arturia sat on her bed, head buried in hands. She heard the boom of the drums, resounding throughout the city. Frozen like a statue, Arturia waited. Her mind stuck in a loop, replaying recent events over and over and over again.

After a while, she flopped onto her back. Held out a hand and summoned Excalibur. It gleamed brilliantly before her. Arturia remembered when she first pulled the sword from the stone. Everything in the universe seemed to come together, and for a split second, she knew with absolute certainty there was a God. He'd seen fit to crown her with the mantle of king, and if that meant sacrificing her sense of self for the greater good, then so be it.

Arturia sometimes considered King Arthur a separate entity from herself. Yet another suit of armor. The ideal monarch. A beacon of hope; something to aspire toward. Fair and just and impregnable. When she was King Arthur, she was a powerful symbol that brought about peace. When she was just Arturia, she was a weak, foolish little girl playing pretend in a brutal, unforgiving world.

"We shouldn't have done that…" Arturia said out loud. Then she shook her head and pressed a hand against her forehead. She still felt hot, as though Gilgamesh's touch sparked an inner monferno. Her lips tingled. "Dammit."

It had taken a long time to restore order in the rookery. Anu went berserk. She almost feared for his personal safety more than the rest of the birds. He inflicted cruel, ragged gouges along her arms, until she summoned her armor and subdued him. The wounds healed due to her natural constitution, as did the bruises on her neck. But the ghost of their marks remained.

Arturia sensed movement. Excalibur vanished and she sat up.

Gwawr padded in. The young cub had almost tripled in size. Her mother quickly lost interest after Gwawr was weaned. The stable hands informed Arturia that this particular lioness often abandoned her young. That made Arturia sad, but also pleased, because it meant she could care for the cub sooner.

Holding out a hand, she smiled when Gwawr jumped onto the bed and snuggled close, purring. Her golden fur felt warm but coarse.

"I'm a moron," Arturia said. Gwawr's ears twitched. Arturia took it as tacit agreement. "I don't know how to handle… I don't know what's… right. These are their traditions. Their rules. Who am I to intervene? But if it hurts someone, someone who cannot defend themselves, whether king or peasant, sinner or saint – isn't that inherently wrong? Isn't that what justice is all about? Giving people who can't fight back another means to protect themselves?"

Gwawr placed her paws on either side of Arturia's neck, almost like a hug. She chuckled and buried her face in Gwawr's fur. Then Arturia jerked back, wrinkling her nose.

"What have you gotten into?" she asked. Gwawr looked innocent. Pushing the cub off, Arturia rolled onto her stomach. "You know, it's strange. I told Gilgamesh to ask. But I was never asked to help the people of Uruk. Well. I suppose I was told. But still, I would've fought for them anyway. Why is this different?"

No answer. Gwawr snuffled at Arturia's ear, nose cold and wet. Contemplative, Arturia let her.

"I should talk about this with Gilgamesh, shouldn't I?"

Gwawr nibbled at her bangs. Arturia didn't know what to expect when the ritual ended. She sighed and touched her mouth. The taste of Gilgamesh still lingered on her tongue. Her heart started beating faster.

Never before had she seen a man look so beautiful. Not that Gilgamesh often bothered hiding his physical attributes, but the ceremonial attire didn't just complement the male form but emphasized it. In her time, men usually dressed in shapeless leather or heavy armor. Gilgamesh also wore makeup, taking Arturia by surprise; the dark and heavy eyeliner brought out the red in his eyes. Coupled with his admission, in that moment he seemed irresistible, and she had felt _lustful_.

Arturia daydreamed, then, about Gilgamesh wearing that outfit, kissing her, his mouth sliding lower and lower… but the daydream twisted, soured, and Ishtar was there, and Enkidu, and all the people who'd slept with Gilgamesh on the final night of the celebration. Arturia grimaced.

Suddenly the door to her room banged open. Gwawr shot up, startled, and Arturia mimicked the motion. Gilgamesh stormed in, clothes unkempt, eyes wild, the kohl running down his face almost like he'd been crying, an awful weal branded across his cheek –.

"What happened to your –?"

Gilgamesh grabbed a vase and hurled it at the wall. It shattered with a vicious crack. Arturia stood now, alarmed and battling back a terrible foreboding.

"I will kill her, Arturia," he roared. Terrified, Gwawr bolted, a tawny blur. Gilgamesh smashed the nearby table with his fists. Splinters flew everywhere. Arturia said his name but he didn't hear her. Gilgamesh was unhinged, eyes glittering with the light of madness.

"I will fuck her corpse, I will ensure her offspring regret they were ever born, I will burn her temple to the ground and piss on its ashes. How dare she disrespect me, me, the great King Gilgamesh, who built Uruk's famous walls. Me! I am the one who protects the city, organizes the army, negotiates trade and imports and exports, mediates disputes, passes judgement, takes the blame when things go wrong. I do everything, she does nothing, none of them do, they just sit atop their perch and look down at me and take credit for _my_ work. That fucking bitch will pay, I swear it –."

Finally Arturia gave up trying to get through to him with words. She grabbed Gilgamesh by the arm. He whipped around, in the midst of dismantling a chair, and for a split second, Arturia thought he might strike her. But Gilgamesh just stood there, chest heaving, stood there and stared. Blood dripped down his knuckles onto the floor.

"Breathe. Deep breaths. You need to calm down. Tell me what happened," she said.

Arturia touched Gilgamesh's face, tracing the ugly mark on his cheek. It almost looked like he'd been burned. She felt a flicker of anger. He flinched, but reason cleared the shadows from his gaze. She dropped her hand to her side, apologetic.

"The sacred marriage rite… did not happen."

"Oh, Gilgamesh." Arturia drew him closer. A selfish part of her was glad to hear it. Gilgamesh wrapped his arms around Arturia, and they embraced for a long time.

…

Arturia daubed medicine onto Gilgamesh's cheek. He lay in bed, head on her lap, quietly watching her work.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Nothing good," Gilgamesh said. "I will not apologize. I will not go back there. No one can make me. Not even you."

He appeared defiant and vulnerable all at once.

"I know. I stand by you," Arturia said.

Gilgamesh softened. He stayed still as she cleaned the medicine off his face, and then threaded his fingers through her hair. Arturia could still see faint traces where Ishtar struck him. Again, she felt that flare of righteous anger. But the anger died away when Gilgamesh gently tucked a bang behind her ear. Blushing, Arturia felt a bizarre mixture of excitement and anxiety fluttering about in her stomach.

"I admit, I half-expected you to tell me to go through with it. Duties of a king and whatnot," he said.

Arturia thought about this.

"Perhaps, in my old life, I would've. I-I, have I ever told you about Lancelot?" she asked. He shook his head. "He was the greatest knight I ever knew. The best of us. I was honored that he considered me his best friend."

Arturia waxed lyrical about Lancelot's various endeavors. Like the time he defeated a charlatan without his armor, and another time he bested someone unarmed. How he never killed or hurt people when he could show mercy. Gilgamesh listened, drinking in her words.

"Of course, everything changed when he met Elaine." Her tone became troubled. "She was trapped in a boiling bath."

"She was what now?" Gilgamesh asked, looking amused. Arturia smiled.

"A faerie cursed her. Lancelot – Lancelot saved Elaine. It was a miracle. She fell in love with him, but his heart, well, belonged to another."

Some small part of Arturia had always known about the affair. But she refused to acknowledge the truth, perhaps in hope that Lancelot and Guinevere would come clean and she could then pardon them. Or maybe in the hopes that she was wrong, and so was Merlin, and so was the entire court. Most likely, though, because Arturia understood, realized that her own lie also trapped Guinevere in a no-win situation, and thus she could not bring herself to act until it was too late. They were good people who did not deserve their respective fates.

"Elaine, she, well, I met her. Once. She was a sweet girl, if naive, but I never would've guessed... she laid with Lancelot under false pretenses. He was never the same after that. Almost as if something broke inside. I wish I had done more for him."

Arturia drifted inward, feeling a deep, melancholic sadness.

"If she did such a thing, then she did not truly love him," Gilgamesh said. "I would have killed her."

"Lancelot wasn't like that," she replied after a long pause. "He forgave Elaine."

"Some actions are unforgivable."

Now Gilgamesh seemed agitated. His eyes flashed. Arturia lapsed into silence. She couldn't bring herself to finish the story, distracting herself by stroking Gilgamesh's silken hair. She felt him relax.

"It's foolish, I know, but sometimes I wonder if there was something else I could've done. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in the forest that I missed the trees, maybe things would've been different. Sometimes I wish I could go back and have a second chance. Part of me feels like being here, in Uruk, is that second chance. To save – to be _better_ ," Arturia said, almost rambling.

"You are right," he replied, mulling over her words. "That is foolish."

Arturia laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.

"Yeah."

Gilgamesh hesitated. Then he sat up and smiled, placing a hand over her heart. He splayed out his fingers. Warmth flowed from each individual digit. He looked her straight in the eyes. "You have a kind soul."

She stared. Arturia blushed scarlet. Leaning forward, she bumped noses with Gilgamesh. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally her mouth. Heat surged from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her toes. Gilgamesh had such _soft_ lips, and on them she tasted the salty echo of his tears. Mental warning bells rang out. Flushed, Arturia stopped.

" _Should_ we be doing this?" she asked, uncertain.

"Says the woman who previously stuck her tongue so far down my throat I almost choked," Gilgamesh murmured, lips lightly brushing against hers with each and every word. Arturia felt his mouth curve into a smirk, and she shivered.

"That is excessive hyperbole and you know it." She stifled the abrupt, absurd urge to laugh.

"I have a flawless memory," he countered. Arturia caved and chuckled. A curious euphoria almost overwhelmed her. For some reason she couldn't stop smiling like a moron. Gilgamesh turned serious. "We do not have to. But I want to. I do not regret anything that has happened today."

Maybe it wasn't the right answer, but it was good enough for her.

(In that moment, Arturia thought she understood Lancelot and Guinevere in a way she hadn't before.)

They exchanged slow kisses, chaste at first, and then heavier and deeper, open mouthed, her fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the base of his neck as they explored each other without words. Compared to cumbersome dialogue, it was simple and easy. A bit dizzy, Arturia wondered why she had been so reticent up until this point. What had she been afraid of, exactly? She couldn't recall.

Gilgamesh caressed the side of her face, running a thumb along her jawline. His touch stoked an inner flame, lessening the grasp winter held over her heart; she burned for him in a way she had never burned for anyone. Before this there had been a brief infatuation with the houndmaster, the shame of her failed marriage, and a night lost to a haze of lust and magic and alcohol. An ache, both familiar and more often than not unfulfilled, bloomed between her loins. Arturia's skin prickled hot, only growing hotter, and not just hot but dry, as if something sucked all the moisture out of the air –.

They broke apart and leapt to their feet. A fierce malevolence pressed down upon them. The temperature spiked, rapidly rising. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Arturia and Gilgamesh shared meaningful glances. Outside, they heard screams.

Gilgamesh summoned his Gate and they stepped through it. They exited atop the palace roof. Gilgamesh uttered a string of vile oaths. An unimaginable dread filled Arturia at the sight before her.

For a massive bull towered over them. Fashioned from gold and ivory and lapis lazuli, it shone with the light of the gods, a miniature sun. She had to squint to look at it. Swathed in steam, it stood at the river's edge, intense heat causing the waters to evaporate. More wailing besieged the city, as everyone gazed upon Gugalanna and realized their doom.

Gugalanna snorted and bellowed, trumpeting its challenge. The ground trembled. Arturia swallowed, working to draw up spit and coat the back of her throat. Gilgamesh observed the divine beast, inscrutable. Arturia touched his shoulder and he exhaled, some tension draining from his stiff frame.

"It won't be an easy fight," she said. He faced her and grinned.

"As if that ever stopped us before." Gilgamesh laughed. "Are you truly a god if you die like a mortal man? The Bull of Heaven shall be slain by our hands, I swear it on my mother's name."


	20. Love and War

a/n: There's some sexual content in this here chapter, and likely one's to follow. The more you know!

* * *

 _"I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."_

He called a council with the elders.

They gathered in the throne room, older men with panicked eyes. Fear permeated their every move. Gilgamesh sat atop his throne, Arturia by his side, and observed them. The questions came thick and fast.

What was going on?

Why had Gugalanna appeared?

What of the ritual?

Gilgamesh held up a hand. All talk ceased.

"I refused the Sacred Marriage rite," he said. Someone gasped.

"My king, why would you do such a thing? Surely you have doomed us all!" said one of the elders.

"You doubt me?" Gilgamesh asked.

"It is against the law!" The elder turned toward Arturia. "My lady, please, surely you cannot condone this."

She stood there, hands behind her back, solemn and quiet. Gilgamesh was acutely aware of her presence. He longed to touch her, but restrained himself. Arturia looked at the elder with grave eyes and shook her head. Gilgamesh felt irate on multiple levels.

"Do not use Arturia to try and manipulate me," he snapped, outraged. "I am the law, and I decree it is now changed."

Gugalanna roared. The throne room trembled. Motes of dust spiraled throughout the air. They exchanged uneasy glances.

"You would go against the gods themselves?"

"Yes," he said.

"Oh my king, you have brought ruin upon poor Uruk," replied an elder, bitterly.

"No harm will befall my city," Gilgamesh said, resolute. "I need inventory to be taken of all the grain currently stored away, and we may have to put a rationing order into effect. Also, the priestesses of Ishtar are forbidden from entering the palace. If they have any requests, they may use the council as a mediator."

Arturia shifted and he could tell she disapproved, but she didn't intervene. Further protests erupted.

"Madness. You cannot just forbid the priesthood. They are the other half of Uruk's governing body!"

"I just did."

The council tried to argue, but Gilgamesh had no intent of budging. He became bored and irritated by their nattering, but before he reached the limits of his patience, the throne room doors banged open. Everyone swiveled toward the disruption, surprised, and watched a young man sprint inside and hurl himself onto the floor.

"Forgive me, my king!" he sobbed. "I bring you a message of great import. A scout has returned, and reports of an army from the north marching toward Uruk."

Everyone remained silent, absorbing the information. Gilgamesh smiled, mirthless, and stood. Some part of him had expected this. Beside Gilgamesh, Arturia's green eyes blazed out from a pale face.

"You are dismissed," he told the elders. "Bring word to my generals. Tell them a meeting will be held. And I want Enkidu here as well."

...

Once the military meeting adjourned, Gilgamesh conferred in private with Arturia and Enkidu.

"This is the work of Enlil, mark my words," Gilgamesh said.

"What does it all mean?" Enkidu asked, wide eyed.

"It means we prepare for a siege," Arturia said. She had spoken little, mostly keeping her own council.

"You wish to take charge of such measures?" Gilgamesh asked. Arturia nodded. "Done, then. My resources are at your disposal."

"And what of Gugalanna?" Enkidu sounded unusually timid.

"We shall defeat him," Gilgamesh said. "I had a prophetic dream a while ago. I now understand the vision. Enkidu, I need your hair."

They both stared at him. Enkidu seemed rather alarmed.

"But... my luscious locks," he said. "Surely there must be another way. What if we seduced Gugalanna instead?"

Arturia choked on her response. Gilgamesh snorted, and the mood in the room lightened. Enkidu grinned, gaining confidence.

"It could work," he insisted. "Have you noticed how attractive we all are? Together we are a triumvirate of unmatched allure. Gil and I go in with the one-two punch, and then Arty lands the finishing blow. I hereby dub it Project: Ride the Bull."

Gilgamesh laughed out loud. Amidst the oppressive heat, the doom and gloom, it felt good to smile and laugh, if for only a little while. Arturia appeared exasperated.

"You may be onto something," he said. "You might even say that Gugalanna would never see it coming."

Both Gilgamesh and Enkidu guffawed in unison. Shaking her head, Arturia seemed torn between amusement and disbelief.

"The two of you are insufferable," she said, which served to redouble their mirth.

Gilgamesh grinned and wrestled his emotions back under control. He said, "Right. Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yes, Enkidu; your hair."

Enkidu pouted but relented. After a couple minutes of histrionics, and then a couple more minutes spent summoning a weapon that could actually cut through his hair, Gilgamesh finished the heinous deed and gripped the thick green locks in his hand. They felt cool to the touch. Enkidu looked odd with short hair.

"I am no longer a lion but a lamb," Enkidu said, wearing the expression of one deep in mourning. Arturia looked as though she desperately wished to roll her eyes, and refrained through sheer willpower. Gilgamesh thought she looked very cute.

"I have an appointment to make," Gilgamesh announced, storing the hair in his Gate. He glanced at Arturia. "Would you like to come with?"

She blinked and then thought about it. Arturia shook her head.

"No... no, I want to begin organizing the defense. There's much to be done. Enkidu, your strength would be invaluable," she said.

"Of course," Enkidu replied.

"I shall see you all later." Gilgamesh watched them file out of the throne room. Arturia cast him one last glance over her shoulder before leaving. He remained, the events of the day sinking in. Shamash wandered by and rested a drooling chin on Gilgamesh's knee. He sighed and stroked the lion's mane.

After a moment Gilgamesh made a decision and bounded out of the throne room. He chased Arturia and caught her rounding the corner. Grabbing an arm, he pulled Arturia back and pushed her against the wall. She looked at him, shocked, as Gilgamesh kissed her hard. A great weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Did I offend you?" he whispered. A flush crept up her neck.

"No, not at all." She kissed him back. Enkidu stood nearby, but pretended not to see them, humming a jaunty tune under his breath.

Gilgamesh drew away, although not without some difficulty, and took a deep breath.

"Okay. Now I am truly off to handle my task," he said. Arturia appeared amused. She touched the side of his face, expression fond.

How unfortunate, Gilgamesh reflected, that they were on the precipice of disaster, and he had never been happier.

...

Gugalanna presided over them all above the clouds. An unwavering symbol of authority that challenged his own. Gilgamesh swallowed, and the hot, dry air parched his throat. But it did not attack. The Bull of Heaven waited, its mere presence enough to cause a famine that would ruin Uruk if left unchecked.

His people were afraid. He saw it in the way they moved, and noticed how they looked at their king when they thought he wasn't looking back.

Gilgamesh strode into Lugalbanda's smithy. His father stood off to the side, head bowed almost as if in prayer. He jerked around to face Gilgamesh.

"Wha – oh. You," Lugalbanda said. "Congrats, you fucked us all over. Again. Want a medal?"

"I will fix it," Gilgamesh insisted. His father looked skeptical. "I shall keep my most important treasure of all safe. I require your assistance."

"Course ya do," Lugalbanda muttered. "Well, whaddya want?"

Gilgamesh summoned Enkidu's hair. He said, "I need a weapon that will shed Gugalanna's hide of its immortality. You could craft such a weapon."

"Have you lost yer fuckin' mind?" Lugalbanda said after a brief, stunned pause. "You realize what yer askin' me to do? Hell, if I even can do it?"

"It can be done. I had a premonition. It must be done. I believe you are the one. More than that, you are the only one I trust."

Lugalbanda stared, motionless. He took the hair from Gilgamesh and examined it, frowning a little.

"This isn' normal – the fuck is this?" he asked.

"A piece of a divine construct," Gilgamesh said.

"Maybe it can be done," Lugalbanda conceded. "But it will take time."

"Then do it," Gilgamesh said. "There is another matter."

His armor materialized. Ruined from the conflict with Ishtar, it looked broken and pathetic in the dull, dun colored light. Lugalbanda softened.

"Oh, my son," he said. "'S always one step forward and three steps back with you, innit?"

...

The stifling heat pressed down on Gilgamesh.

Faintly, he heard Gugalanna's intermittent bellows. Gilgamesh missed the quiet noises of the night. Now only blaring roars brought on terrified silence, like the lack of sound following a clap of thunder. And before the city had a chance to recover, another roar shook it to its core.

Gilgamesh sat on the edge of the bed with Enkidu. They spoke in a low, quiet undertone. The door opened and Arturia entered. Both glanced at her.

"I will go," Enkidu said. He clapped Arturia's shoulder as he passed. She watched him leave, and then snapped around to face Gilgamesh.

"I've doubled patrols on the walls," Arturia said. "We've begun reinforcing it, as well. And I worked out a plan with the drill sergeant and generals on siege protocol."

"Good. Good. What are you thinking?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Uruk is fairly well designed from a defensive standpoint, although the geography isn't ideal," she said. "But Gugalanna is a wild card. Right now it does nothing, but how long will that last?"

"I agree. I believe there is a means to neutralize it. Someone I know can provide us with the weapon to accomplish this feat."

Arturia looked skeptical. She asked, "You trust this someone of yours with something so pivotal?"

"I believe in him." Gilgamesh felt tired and drained.

Arturia nodded, seemingly in acquiescence. She appeared regal, serious and commanding, carved from alabaster and lapis lazuli and emerald. He understood how her people could think her a man, how she could win the right to rule despite being a young girl. Arturia more than earned her crown by fighting against a world that fought back every step of the way.

"Will you stay?" he asked.

A blush rose to her cheeks. They both knew she visited his room for more than a mere status report.

"Why was Enkidu here?" Arturia replied. He tilted his head, considering the question. The underlying implication eluded him, but it seemed to matter a great deal to her.

"I hate sleeping alone."

He hadn't wanted to assume anything, either, not after what happened last time. Arturia hesitated. Gilgamesh stood and approached. She watched him, expression softening with every step he took.

"You have no need to be jealous," he said.

"I'm not," Arturia said. Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yes, I am. Because... I, you... you're special to me, Gilgamesh. I feel I can confide in you, and you can confide in me, and there's parts of us that we've shown each other that we've never shown anyone else. When I'm with you, I can be selfish without being ashamed, without feeling like it's wrong and sinful. And I value that, what we have between us. Just us."

Now he sported a blush of his own, features turning ruddy. Gilgamesh reached out and caressed her cheek.

"You have my soul. You have had it from the moment you punched me in the face," he said.

"I don't want to own you." But a smile played at the corner of her lips, even as she leaned toward him.

"Then what do you want?" Gilgamesh asked, and she stared. An uncharacteristic insecurity flickered through him. "Arturia. You – I meant it when I said I want nothing from you. I hope this is not, is not you feeling obligated to me. We do not need to sleep together, you know."

Arturia didn't answer right away, although her expression shifted and her lips parted. She cleared her throat, the blush on her face deepening. Taking his hand from her face, Arturia kissed it; the scrapes on his knuckles, marks leftover from his earlier fit, grazed her lips.

"I tell you truly, Gilgamesh, I would like to share your bed with you, and you alone, if you'll have me."

He shivered, red as the setting sun. His skin felt hot and tight, and he thought his heart might hammer out of his chest. Arturia didn't need to ask, they both knew he could never deny her, and yet she did it anyway. There was something simple and wonderful about choice. To have the ability to say 'yes' or 'no', and not be afraid of the consequences.

Expression tender, Gilgamesh recovered, finding her waist and drawing her near.

"You will stay, then?" he murmured. She responded by standing on tiptoe and claiming his mouth with her own. He bowed his head to meet her. It, them, was effortless as breathing. Gilgamesh felt he could kiss her forever and never be satiated.

He found her hair and began untangling the dense network of braids. Blonde locks tumbled free. Her blue ribbon fluttered away. He remained passive otherwise, letting her part his lips and run her tongue along the roof of his mouth.

Arturia moved closer. Gilgamesh stayed quiet and kept still. Nimble fingers traced the peaks of his dusky nipples and the ridges of his defined abdomen. The reality was so much better than any of his many fantasies, and the pounding in his ears drowned out Gugalanna's bellows.

Small hands stumbled across and then worked at the necklaces adorning him. Gilgamesh watched her struggle with the complicated clasps, amused. Arturia grumbled under her breath.

When they finally came free, she appeared pleased, and pressed her mouth against his chest, letting the necklaces clatter onto the floor. Gilgamesh's breath hitched and he felt her half-smile. Arturia explored him with reckless abandon, hands bathing him in cool fire. She removed his shawl in the process, discarding it without a second glance.

Arturia lapped at the sweat sliding down his sternum. Gilgamesh inhaled, a ragged whimper escaping him. He was far more experienced and yet with each lick he reverted back to an unsure virgin. Already Gilgamesh felt hard and desperate and fuck but he wanted her.

Even though they'd never done this before, Arturia's every action seemed familiar. Safe. Safe and kind. He loved that, loved how she wasn't perfect, but she was a good person, how she got back up every time the world knocked her down, battered and bruised but more determined than ever to find the light hidden amidst the pervading darkness. It would be so much easier to give into bitterness and cynicism, ignore all the little moments of kindness in favor of little moments of cruelty, and while both existed within Arturia, they never defined who she was as a person.

Arturia took his hands and placed them on her hips. He hesitated and then adjusted his grip, firm and sure. Gilgamesh sought out her neck, sucking at the pulse point beneath her jaw. He cupped her rear and urged her to grind against him. Arturia complied, and he tingled from the sensation the pressure provided, something tight coiling in his gut.

She moaned. The soft noise set his passion aflame, and he bit her neck, a delicate hickey blooming across pale flesh like dark rose petals. They stumbled backward, toward the bed, fumbling with each other's clothes. His were light and simple, an easy affair to untie. In mere moments his remaining skirts hung slack on his hips, precariously loose. Her dress proved more of a conundrum, and after laboring for a bit, Gilgamesh uttered a small noise of frustration.

"What chastity demon crafted this nefarious outfit?"

Arturia chuckled.

"I thought you liked my dress?" she asked, playful. Gilgamesh blinked and then smirked.

"I do. But – call it a premonition – I am sure you would look even better wearing nothing at all."

Arturia reddened. She guided him through the process, unraveling the bodice's lacework, showing what to do without words. He observed, attentive, fingers quick and clever as he grasped the concept. Her dress came undone in the most satisfying manner, slithering off her frame with the quietest of whispers.

They both stilled. Arturia looked at him and in her eyes he saw brief, intense terror. Gilgamesh wondered if she had ever bared herself, physically and emotionally, to another person before. He doubted it, and the realization sent a thrill through him. Gentle, he took her chin between his fingers and turned her face up toward his own.

"Here I am," Gilgamesh said.

The fear faded from her expression. Desire replaced it, burning bright. She yanked his skirts down and they crumpled into a pile on the floor. He stood there, letting her take in his naked form, and her face turned beet red. Gilgamesh smirked, a hint of smug arrogance returning.

She saw his expression and her own became resolute. He loved that too, loved how she never backed down, and instead rose to the challenge he presented, without making him feel inferior in the process. Then Arturia touched him intimately, solemn and methodical and borderline reverential, and Gilgamesh forgot about everything that wasn't her. He groaned and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in Arturia's scent and growling her name.

They tumbled onto the bed. Gilgamesh sank into silken sheets, observing her straddle him. His hands plied the width of her hips, rubbing gentle circles against sensitive skin. He slipped his fingers between her thighs, stimulating the aching flesh there.

Arturia emitted a quiet yet keen noise. She took his hands and pinned them above his head. He let her because he trusted her, because he wanted to repay the faith she had in him. Gilgamesh watched Arturia with gentle eyes. She met his stare and her own gaze softened.

Neither looked away as she bore down on him. Arturia took him slowly, gritting her teeth as she sheathed Gilgamesh within her. He sighed from the feel of her, all power and strength, and yet still sweet and tender, surrendered to her and let her envelop him. For once, it felt like more than pleasure for the sake of pleasure. It felt like joining together with another person, sharing something deeply personal and wonderfully real. In that moment life became more than a series of random, chaotic events following each other; it held meaning.

The shackles that confined him since birth broke away, and he was set free.

...

They lay intertwined in bed, slick with sweat and spent from a long night. Arturia watched him, a small, content smile on her face. Gilgamesh returned the gesture, circling her breast with a lazy thumb. He was tired, but in a good way, like after an excellent training bout.

"Did I not predict you would enjoy it?" he asked, teasing her. Arturia blinked before comprehension dawned in her gaze. She seemed somewhat embarrassed but also amused.

"You were right," she mumbled.

"Hmm? Say that again?" he asked.

"Not happening." Arturia smiled openly now.

"Is it so difficult to accept that me being right is a natural state of the universe?" Gilgamesh laughed and she gave him a light, playful cuff about the head.

They tussled for a moment, and it might've given way to more if not for Gugalanna's ear piercing cry. The smile faded from Arturia's face and she turned pensive.

"Why do you feel guilty?" he asked, reading her expression.

"Despite everything, here we are, fooling around like teenagers," she said.

Gilgamesh contemplated his reply.

"You know, I had an epiphany, while you were telling me about your Lancelot. They want us to be miserable and ashamed. They want us to lash out so they can put the blame on us and avoid any and all repercussions. Well, I am tired of being miserable. Perhaps they can dictate the consequences of our actions, but they cannot dictate how we feel. If for only one night, I choose instead to be a fool in love."

Arturia flushed and then sniffled, burying her face in his shoulder. Gilgamesh felt tears dampening his skin. Concerned, he touched her.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"I'm happy." The response came out muffled. Gilgamesh relaxed and rubbed the small of her back. They still heard Gugalanna in the background, omnipresent and unavoidable, however much they tried to ignore him. "You truly think we can win?"

"I know we will." He almost added that that he would support Arturia so that she wouldn't fall, and if she did he would help her find her feet; that he knew she would do the same for him. Instead, Gilgamesh simply said, "I believe the two of us can accomplish anything together."

Arturia said nothing at first.

"What happens now?"

"Now?" Shifting, Gilgamesh rolled over, the length of his body pressing down on her. He put the brunt of his weight on his forearms, and kissed the remaining tears from Arturia's cheeks. "Tonight we make love. And tomorrow we prepare for war."


	21. in the wake of growing shadows

_"There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them and let them hurt me."_

 _A foul stench hovered about the cave. Fetid and rotten; the scent of a dying man. She stepped forward._

 _He lay prone on the ground. Sweat beaded his brow, skin unnaturally pale. Looking at her, fever clouded his gaze. But then – a spark of recognition._

 _"Y... y'membered me?" he whispered, unfocused, slurring his words. She knelt and kissed him, brushing aside damp bangs._

 _"I could never forget you, my love."_

...

Arturia woke up. She felt strange. It took a moment to realize why; she was naked, in a room she didn't recognize as her own, in a bed that most certainly wasn't the one familiar to her. Brief anxiety engulfed her as Arturia tried remembering what happened. But then the previous night's events returned to her, and she relaxed.

Gilgamesh still slumbered beside her. He'd slung a careless arm around her waist; his even breathing tickled her neck, chest pressed against her back. Arturia should've been unbearably hot given the oppressive heat, yet she was comfortable and content, if a bit sticky and sore.

Arturia rolled over and looked at him. Gilgamesh appeared much younger when he slept. She felt younger, too, and lighter, like a great burden had been eased off her shoulders. If not for him anchoring her in place, Arturia might've floated away. He stirred when she traced his jawline.

Gilgamesh opened his eyes and slid a hand up to rest on her shoulder.

"Hi." He kissed her.

Arturia tangled her fingers in his hair, heart racing, singing with the knowledge that he loved her and she loved him, and eagerly returned his affections. She eventually pulled away, scooting to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm going to check the wall's perimeter," she said.

"Did you not establish a patrol already?"

"Yes. But still."

Gilgamesh stared at her. Then he slumped back into bed, burying his face in a pillow.

"If anything problematic arises, simply think to yourself, 'what would Gilgamesh do?", and the correct course of action shall be made clear," he said, muffled.

Arturia chuckled.

"I'll keep that in mind."

...

Arturia found Gwawr along the way out the palace. She scooped up the lion cub and brought her with on a whim. Gwawr struggled a little, scratching Arturia's arms in a showcase of displeasure, but relaxed after a couple minutes. Now she rested her chin on Arturia's shoulder, staring at the world atop the wall as it passed them by.

The streets of Uruk were almost deserted. People stayed inside. When they ventured out, they moved quickly toward their destination. The plains surrounding the city remained empty, although it wouldn't last. Outside the wall, workers built ditches, and mages laid down barriers in preparation for the coming assault. Arturia had been on both sides of a siege before. Her stomach twisted as bad memories reopened old wounds.

Gugalanna bore down on them all. She looked up at the bull of heaven and anger licked her insides. Her hands clenched into fists.

Then Arturia turned and there stood Ishtar.

They watched one another. Arturia felt guarded and wary. She thought about what Gilgamesh would do, and decided doing the opposite would likely be the wisest course of action. Gwawr started wriggling again, and she set the cub on the ground.

"I know you feel you owe me nothing, least of all an explanation," Arturia said as Gwawr rubbed against her leg, "but please, answer me this, Ishtar... why?"

Ishtar looked at her, expression unreadable.

"Be more specific."

"You love this city," Arturia said. "I do not believe you wish to see it harmed. And yet, here we are."

"How well you know me, Saber." Ishtar folded her arms. "Seven years. There is enough food and water to outlast seven years of famine. Uruk will survive."

"So this is actually about humiliating Gilgamesh," Arturia said. "And that doesn't explain the army heading our way."

"He humiliated me." Ishtar's eyes flashed. "He must suffer the consequences. To be a king is to be a leader. When a mistake is made, everyone beneath is affected, one way or another. You know this."

Arturia didn't respond. Ishtar calmed down and tilted her head. She said, "If Gilgamesh apologizes to me, I shall call off Gugalanna. I cannot prevent the army from arriving, however. I am not the only god that has suffered offense at the hands of Gilgamesh's arrogance; this was merely the tipping point."

Arturia knelt and petted Gwawr.

"I can't make him apologize, and even if I could, I wouldn't."

"So says the one who would have burned her own wife at the stake for the sake of peace," Ishtar said. Arturia hesitated.

"King Arthur only ever tried to do what he felt needed to be done. I am the same."

"Elaborate."

"Something is broken. Or, perhaps, something has healed over, but not quite right, like a bone, and must now be re-broken and properly set," Arturia said. "When a good person can be molded into an inhuman tyrant, when rules exist that facilitate the pain of the weak, that prey upon the minds of those who are scared and just trying to live another day, then something is wrong. I want to fix it, and with Gilgamesh's help, maybe I can. Maybe together we can build something greater than we would've managed alone."

"To be king is not to be human. Did you yourself not say that, once?"

"Perhaps I was wrong." The admission stung Arturia's pride more than she cared to admit.

"You are a fool, but an admirable one. Understand that if you attack Gugalanna, he shall defend himself. People will get hurt." Ishtar bore a curious expression.

"I accept the consequences, whatever they may be," Arturia said. "And you must understand that I will fight tooth and nail to protect both Uruk and Gilgamesh."

In the span of a blink, Ishtar vanished.

Arturia exhaled. Sweat trickled down her temple. She sat, drained, and scratched Gwawr behind the ear as the cub climbed onto her lap. Her legs dangled over the wall's ledge. Arturia felt very small, then.

"Sir?"

Arturia twisted and spotted a soldier patrolling the wall. She recognized him; he was the daredevil from the tournament. Shulgi. They had trained together a fair few times since then. He had a bright future ahead of him. A magnificent shiner marred Shulgi's right eye.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Huh – oh." Shulgi touched his face and then scowled. "You should see the other guy. Talks a lot of shi - talks a lot, especially about King Gilgamesh."

"You don't agree?" They both watched Gwawr get up and jump around, batting at motes of dust with large, ungainly paws.

"Of course not! He's our king, he should be treated with respect. And complaining behind his back is the method of a coward. Besides, we all need to be working together to deal with this, uh, stuff, not arguing amongst ourselves."

"And you decided to solve the issue by fighting," she said. He looked embarrassed and fidgeted.

"Well, yeah. He had it coming. Has a mean right hook, though."

Arturia smiled and leaned back.

"Why are you loyal to King Gilgamesh?" she asked.

"Why?" Shulgi appeared stumped. "I dunno, it's hard to explain."

"Try me."

"I guess... well, for one, King Gilgamesh is strong and smart and he's not afraid of nothing. And, and, I feel he has a vision, in a way others don't. He doesn't just wanna survive, y'know? He wants to be remembered. I like that. Makes me feel like we're... more. And he's our king. You're a foreigner, and even our patron gods, Anu and Ishtar, aren't really ours, because anyone can still worship them. And, yeah, maybe it's selfish, but King Gilgamesh is Uruk's king, and no one can take that away from us. I'll be loyal to him 'til the day I die, no matter what. Because he's worth it," he said.

Tremors shook the ground. Gugalanna roared. Gwawr's back arched and she let out a yowl of displeasure. Shulgi tightened his grip on his spear.

"I should probably continue my route," he said. Arturia stood.

"Mind if I accompany you for a while?" she asked. He blinked and then grinned. Shulgi twirled his spear in an attempt to show off, dropped it, picked it back up, and cleared his throat. Arturia watched, impassive, although she felt amused.

"Not at all, sir."

...

On the way toward Egalmah, Arturia, accompanied by Gwawr, came across Shamhat. The priestess sat on the steps of Eanna, appearing upset. Enkidu comforted her, an arm around her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Arturia asked, concerned. They both glanced up at her. Tears stained Shamhat's cheeks.

"Oh, Art. Everything is all my fault," Shamhat said. She looked miserable.

"What? No, it's not," Arturia said.

"Exactly. I said the same thing. Word for word, even." Enkidu patted Shamhat on the back.

"I was not good enough for the ritual. I failed both my goddess and my king." She sniffled and wiped at her face.

"You were part of the ritual?" Arturia asked, shocked. Gilgamesh had not mentioned it.

"Of course. It is a great honor. The other priestesses do not like me much, because I was raised differently from them. I have always worked harder, always faced twice as much scrutiny when I make a mistake. And now this... I have brought shame to the temple. It would not surprise me if Ishtar discards me altogether. I would not blame her," Shamhat said.

Arturia knelt and placed a firm hand on Shamat's knee. Gwawr rubbed against the priestess's legs, purring.

"Ishtar may be a great many things, but I'm confident she's not a moron," Arturia said.

"It is not your fault Gil has terrible taste in women," Enkidu added. He spotted the look on Arturia's face. "I kid. Anyway, I think you are amazing."

"Oh, you two are far too kind," Shamhat said mournfully. "But I am afraid. Ishtar gives my life purpose and meaning. Without her I just... I do not know how to live."

Arturia felt a peculiar mixture of empathy and pity. Enkidu didn't seem to know what to say, so he just continued patting Shamhat's back in an effort to soothe her.

"When everything has settled, allow me to treat you to a nice dinner," Arturia said. Shamhat let out a watery chuckle, reaching down to pet Gwawr.

"Are you trying to bribe me into feeling better?"

"I mean, food often improves my mood. Is it working?" Arturia replied. Shamhat giggled.

"A little." She wiped at her eyes. "I am so embarrassed. I saw Enkidu and I do not know what happened, a flood of emotions just overwhelmed me."

"My atrocious new haircut was probably the inciting incident," he said. Arturia and Shamhat both laughed.

"It will grow back." Shamhat fussed with his hair, expression fond. "I rather like it."

"Maybe I shall keep it, then," Enkidu said. "Although I must find a better stylist first. King of Barbers, Gil is not."

Confident that everything was under control, Arturia lingered a few minutes longer before resuming her journey toward Egalmah. She left Gwawr behind with them. Arturia reigned in her growing apprehension with some difficulty.

Ninsun waited for her in the temple. Arturia knelt and bowed her head.

"Saber."

"Master." Arturia stared at the smooth white floor. Her tone was monotone and controlled. "I come to request a boon. I hoped you would use a Command Seal to aide me in the battle with the Bull of Heaven."

"Absolutely not," Ninsun said. She sounded furious. "Gugalanna is far beyond the capabilities of mortals."

"I am a Heroic Spirit, and Gilgamesh has divine blood. Even if that were not so, we both believe the bull is fallible."

"And I believe you are both stubborn fools!" Ninsun shouted. Arturia flinched and braced herself, but nothing happened. "Already you have failed Gilgamesh, and turned the tide of the gods against him. You would make it worse?"

"You're right, I did fail him," she said. "This is me rectifying that error."

Ninsun went quiet. Then, "You cannot save him, Saber. Only Gilgamesh can accomplish such a feat, and only by walking away from the throne. That will never happen."

Arturia gritted her teeth. She reigned in her temper and took a deep breath.

"You will not assist me, then?" she asked.

"I will not. I tell you truly, Saber, this path you insist on walking leads only toward death."

"Then I have nothing more to say." Arturia watched Ninsun's expression darken.

The doors to the inner sanctum banged open. Arturia looked up and blinked. In strode a large, hairy man. He appeared familiar. She'd seen him in her dreams, but also, also, where else had she seen him?

"Lugalbanda," Ninsun said oddly.

Arturia knew that name. She asked, a bit incredulous, "You're Gilgamesh's father?"

"Aye. He didn' inherit my good looks though, 'm afraid. Didn' mean to interrupt. Hoped I could talk to you, though, Ninsun. Preferably just us two grown ups havin' a good ol heart-to-heart," Lugalbanda said.

Arturia frowned. Before she could get a word in edgewise, Ninsun responded.

"Leave us, Saber. Now."

Her tone brooked no argument.

...

Arturia rejoined Gilgamesh in the throne room. He oversaw another meeting with his generals. She also recognized Basheer. They had a map of the city detailed before them, discussing areas that needed strengthening or restructuring.

Gilgamesh glanced up at her and smiled. Arturia smiled back, the frustrations of the day receding somewhat. He brushed her arm when she went and stood beside him. Arturia didn't react outwardly, but she found herself wishing they could be alone. Then she scolded the selfish train of thought and refocused.

They discussed guard rotation, shift changes, fortification measures, and rationing ordinances. The last one proved a difficult and irritating point of contention. Gilgamesh seemed ready to lose interest and shut down the conversation. Then talk shifted to tactics.

"I would like to form a personal platoon," she said. "We infiltrate their camp under the cover of night and stage an ambush."

"That is unnecessary," Gilgamesh replied, frowning. "We simply draw them onto us, and then I use my Gate as the main offensive thrust."

"With all due respect, my king, we should not reveal our greatest weapon until we understand the extent of their magical prowess," said one of the generals.

"Not only that, but perhaps we can sabotage their sappers and siege equipment by taking the fight to them," Arturia said. "We hit hard, assess their forces, and then back out. You provide support in case something goes wrong. With luck, they'll be too busy scrambling to enact proper countermeasures. And if not, then we have a guaranteed set of doubles."

Gilgamesh considered the suggestion. His brow furrowed and he took her hand.

"It is sensible, but that does not mean I like it," he admitted. She squeezed back, reassuring, both elated and a little embarrassed by the open display of affection.

"Is it wise for you to lead the charge, however?" asked another general. "You and the king are our greatest assets. This strikes me as risky."

"I will not send men into such a dangerous situation alone." Arturia was steadfast and resolute. Another argument seemed imminent, judging by the look on the generals' faces.

Warning horns sounded off. Everyone froze, exchanging meaningful glances. A moment later a servant entered and confirmed what they already knew; the enemy had been sighted on the horizon.


	22. a fist forms and strikes back

a/n: I did a bit of research into siege machines during the time period. But the material I had was frustratingly vague. So I just sorta pulled the artistic license card and called it a day, haha.

* * *

 _Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."_

Arturia and Gilgamesh walked alongside the canal. Its low ebb signaled the oncoming drought. A hot, dry wind scoured the city, and the sky appeared an angry reddish-orange akin to rust. They said nothing for some time. Then Gilgamesh halted.

"I would feel better if you brought Enkidu with you," he said. She faced him.

"We discussed this. Enkidu will be at the entrance to the city, protecting it and distracting the bulk of their forces. You doubt my ability?"

"Of course not." He touched her cheek. "I... I am worried, is all."

"I will return," Arturia said, solemn, placing a hand over his.

"Promise?" Gilgamesh asked. "You will not pull some bone headed act in a misguided attempt at heroics?"

She hesitated.

"I swear on my honor as King of Knights that I shall return," Arturia said. He chuckled.

"Very well." Gilgamesh summoned a gold lens, directing it toward her face. "Keep in mind I shall watch over you with this. It sees everything, and if –."

Arturia batted his hand away and he snickered.

Suddenly Gilgamesh grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. Arturia shouted, taken by surprise, pounding a fist against his back.

"Fuck – Gilgamesh!" she yelped as he threw himself into the canal. Lukewarm water engulfed Arturia, soaking her heavy wool garments in mere moments.

Arturia re-emerged, sputtering, treading water and red faced. Gilgamesh surfaced too, grinning from ear-to-ear like a mischievous little boy. He splashed her, laughing, and she responded by grabbing him and dunking him underwater.

"You are heavier then you look," he said, coughing as water streamed out of his nose. "Dense, I think, is a good word for it."

Arturia dunked him again. The canal was not that deep; Gilgamesh could just about stand. He let her do it anyway.

"You're such an ass." But she smiled.

"All according to plan," Gilgamesh said, gloating, as he pulled her toward him. She anchored her legs around his waist and slicked back his sopping wet hair. Amazing, how different he could look depending on how his hair framed his face.

"Gilgamesh." Arturia turned serious. "I love you."

"Me too," he replied. His bright red eyes sparkled.

"Hilarious. You missed your calling as a jester," she said. He adjusted his grip and nuzzled her in response.

Briefly, Arturia felt self-conscious displaying such intimacy in a public place. But then Gilgamesh kissed her, and she decided she didn't much care.

She tasted the Euphrates on his lips. Arturia wrapped her arms around his neck, tongue sliding against his own. His hand ran along her leg, nudging between her thighs. She gasped and arched, deepening the kiss, urgent, hands tugging at his hair, encouraging him. He searched her, moving at a maddening pace, and Arturia muffled her moans into his mouth. Gilgamesh urged her to seek out his neck, and she complied, biting the corded muscle there, marking him as hers.

Not until Arturia's back hit cool mud did she realize he'd been moving toward the bank. Gilgamesh pressed against her, heavy and hot. She half-expected the water weighing down her clothes to evaporate from the overwhelming heat. He worked at her dress, letting it ride along her hips, and she tugged at his own garments.

Gilgamesh pushed up inside her, and Arturia sighed, letting her head fall back. She thought she might fracture from his fullness; welcomed it, even. Arturia cradled him close, matching his movements, love making tinged with quiet desperation. A sense of futility motivated their actions as Gugalanna orbited above them and war horns sounded in the distance.

He came with a grunt, face buried in the crook of her shoulder, and used his fingers to finish her. Then Gilgamesh rolled off Arturia. They both lay there, panting, and she needed a moment to come down from the high of her orgasm.

"I can't believe we just did that," Arturia said at last.

"Your prudishness is adorable." Gilgamesh snorted. She looked at him strangely before scoffing.

"Not what I meant, although that, too. The water is probably disgusting," she said. Gilgamesh laughed and ran his thumb along her cheek, brushing aside a strand of rapidly drying hair.

"Probably," he agreed.

A pause.

"You remember when you asked me what a knight was?" Arturia asked out of nowhere. He propped his head in his hand, scrutinizing her.

"Yes."

"I have a better answer now."

"I would hope so, since you had months to consider it."

"Shush." Arturia placed a finger on Gilgamesh's mouth. "Anyway, knights... knighthood... my Knights of the Round Table... they were, are, a community. A community of like-minded people, of similar ideals and skills, working together and supporting one another in pursuit of a dream. Peace. For everyone. At least, that's what it was supposed to be. It didn't work out the way I wanted."

Arturia felt depressed. Her expression clouded over. Gilgamesh considered her.

"I see. And why do you think that happened?" he asked. Arturia thought about it.

"There were many factors. Complacency, for one."

"Hmm," he said. "Support is important, but when mistakes are made, it needs to be recognized and rectified."

"That's my job," Arturia replied, morose. "And I failed."

"Seems like the type of job that cannot be done alone. Are they not individuals? Are they not adults? Did they not agree to follow the rules, agree to the code you laid down?" Gilgamesh asked. "They are not a flock of sheep, and you are not their shepherd."

"You're one to talk."

"I was born to pass judgment on others." He puffed out his chest, tone boastful yet wry. "I follow my ideals. What others do is none of my concern."

Arturia chuckled before drifting deeper into melancholia.

"You were also born a man," she said without thinking. Gilgamesh blinked.

"You think that makes a difference?"

"No. Maybe." Arturia hesitated. "Yes."

He appeared nonplussed. Gilgamesh tilted his head.

"Why?"

"The male, unless constituted in some respect contrary to nature, is by nature more expert at leading than the female," she quoted. He looked puzzled before frowning.

"That is false," Gilgamesh said, with a surprising amount of force. "From what you have told me, you inherited a broken kingdom. A house divided cannot stand. A solid foundation means nothing if the ground it is on is bad. The truth is you are a good king, regardless of gender, but in the end it did not matter either way."

"I cannot believe that." Arturia became heated. "I can't, Gilgamesh. You imply that, that, despite everything, Britannia was doomed to fail. My subjects doomed to die senseless deaths, and nothing would stop it, no potential outcome could change it.

"Bad things happen because of choices, bad choices, yes, but still, the idea of free will remains. What you're saying is that bad things happen and nothing will stop them from happening. As if we must suffer a poorly built structure and cannot fix it, we must only accept it or leave. I refuse to believe that, no God that claims to be loving would ever – I refuse to even consider it."

"All death is senseless," he said, quietly.

"Way to miss the point," she replied, irritated.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Arturia began feeling guilty for snapping at him. Before she could wrestle her pride into submission and apologize, Gilgamesh shifted, looking her dead in the eye.

"Regardless, I know for sure, man or woman, I would love you just the same."

Arturia blinked.

"Thank you," she said, touching his hand with her own. "That truly means a lot to me."

He shot her a toothy smirk and said, "You are more than welcome."

...

Darkness drenched the sky in midnight blue. Arturia stood before the men she'd handpicked for the mission. Shulgi was among them. They watched her, faces wan in flickering torchlight.

"Remember what we are fighting for," she said. "We fight to protect your home. Protect your loved ones from harm. We must not fail."

"Yes, sir."

They gripped their weapons and spoke in unison. Arturia gazed back at them, and then glanced at Excalibur, currently concealed, before nodding.

"Let us be off."

Even Gugalanna was quiet, as if it sensed what was happening.

She led them out Uruk's eastern gate. The enemy lay spread out a few leagues away, a collection of land bound stars flickering in the breeze. Already they'd begun digging trenches, begun spreading out. Soon they would surround the city on all sides.

Arturia glanced back at the wall and spotted a familiar silhouette. A lump clogged her throat, and she swallowed.

They crept amongst shadows, slow and cautious, circling around. Upon reaching the first set of guards, Arturia motioned for the others to stop. She killed the guards without much difficulty, and, more importantly, remained undetected.

Some of her soldiers checked for magical traps and disabled them. Everyone else entered various tents. They exited with bloodied weapons and stony faces. It was quick and silent and terrible. Arturia knew it to be necessary, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

She spotted a siege weapon, more of a clumsily erected trestle, and headed toward it. Arturia moved with inhuman stealth. Magic trembled and troubled her for but a brief moment, before her natural resistance caused it to dissipate. Arturia set about disabling the device. She worked fast and stayed silent, concentrating on her task.

"What the fuck?"

Arturia spun around. The young man stared at her, no doubt a guard making the rounds. Then he blinked and, before he could raise the alarm, found Excalibur protruding out of his chest.

He opened his mouth, gurgling blood, the dancing torchlight making his eyes look like twin voids. Arturia gently set him on the ground and prayed for his soul.

A scream rent the silent night. She sped toward the disruption without a moment's hesitation. Upon catching sight of it, Arturia skidded to a halt, startled.

There stood a beast most foul. It hulked over one of her men, having skewered him with a massive scorpion tail. Peering at her, it had six legs, claws for hands, and the face of a woman. Arturia's heart skipped a beat. Then she released Excalibur, flooding the land in light, and attacked. It tossed aside the carcass.

Around her Arturia heard the army waking up. Shouts and clashes of bronze against bronze filled the air. She sprinted toward the female scorpion creature, slashing at it with her sword. The beast dodged and jabbed at her with its tail. She parried the attempt, Excalibur sinking deep into its carapace.

It howled, a blood curdling sound, and wrenched free. Arturia danced back. She sense something approaching behind her and leapt aside. Another one of the scorpion beasts, this time appearing male, hurtled past her.

"Harm my wife again and I will ensure you a most slow and painful death, not-spirit," said the male scorpion, voice clipped like two mandibles clicking together.

Arturia inhaled, reset her footing, and responded by raising Excalibur up. Everything was true chaos, now, violent scrums erupting all over the camp.

The two scorpion creatures separated, flanking her, and Arturia wiped at the sweat beading her brow. Before anyone could act, a massive golden gate split the night sky open. Weapons poured out, raining down upon everyone; more agonized screams rang out. They did not venture near Arturia, and she could only hope the same applied for the rest of her group.

Her opposition backtracked, forced to avoid the various blades assaulting them. Several sank into their thick skin, and they cried out in pain. Arturia hesitated, her sense of honor conflicting with her natural pragmatism.

Suddenly Gilgamesh's Gate shut, like the slamming of a door. Gugalanna flared to life, its tremendous roar causing the earth to shake.

" **YOU DARE OPERATE IN MY DOMAIN, MONGREL**?" It spoke for the first time, voice akin to the clang of an enormous bell. " **THE HEAVENS ARE FIT ONLY FOR THE GODS. MORTALS SUCH AS YOURSELF BELONG AMONGST THE MUD AND WORMS. IF YOU KNEW YOUR PLACE, YOU WOULD NOT BE IN THIS PREDICAMENT. ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT AND SUFFER, FOOL!** "

It snorted.

The earth shook with immense tremors. Arturia looked at the scorpion duo, they looked at her, and then all three took off in a dead sprint, seeking safety. A massive crack appeared, spreading, swallowing up the surroundings. One hundred men fell to their death.

Gugalanna snorted again.

Another crack appeared. Two hundred men fell to their death.

Arturia felt the ground beneath her feet give way. She lunged forward, desperate, scared, falling into the world's bowels. The female scorpion plummeted beside her, injured from Gilgamesh's assault, emitting the most horrendous, grating noise, the type one never forgot however much they wished they could. Everyone had gone mad, shrieking in terror, and Arturia knew hell sounded like this, and that she had experienced it before.

She wished she could say she accepted her death, and some part of her knew she deserved it, but Arturia didn't want to die. She liked living. Liked Uruk, liked the people there, and loved Gilgamesh. She wanted to live. And yet still Arturia fell.

A hand grabbed her. Arturia dangled off the ledge of the abyss. She looked up and saw Shulgi, breathing hard, white faced and drenched in sweat. He tried pulling her up, the muscles in his arms popping.

"You're too fucking heavy!" Shulgi yelled, dimly heard over the cacophony.

He added a second hand, scrambling, struggling to keep a grip on her gauntlets. Arturia clicked back into action and hauled herself up. They sat there, both breathing hard for different reasons. Arturia stared at the gaping maw Gugalanna created. She couldn't see the bottom. Shulgi said something but she didn't hear him.

"What?" Arturia glanced his way.

Then she grabbed Shulgi and shielded him. She rolled away, avoiding the scorpion man's charge. Lancing pain pierced her armor. It made a wide turn and faced her, expression dark. In its grip it held a spear, stained red with blood. Arturia clutched her side and grimaced.

Arturia decided, then, that they should pull back. They had more than assessed the enemy's forces. She shook Shulgi and he blinked, dazed.

"Run. Sound the retreat," she said.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I will follow." Arturia hefted Excalibur. It glowed, brilliant and effervescent.

Fires had started, catching tents alight. Not that it mattered, with Gugalanna currently blazing forth like the noonday sun. Arturia tasted the scent of carrion at the back of her throat. For the first time in a long time, she recalled that accursed hill. Even Gilgamesh's weapons, littering the field like unholy blades of grass, reminded her of that final, futile meeting, the pinnacle of her failure.

Shulgi obeyed. His feet slapped against dry, cracked earth.

Arturia bent her knees. She looked the scorpion monster dead in the eye. It was crying, tears shining on its cheeks like diamonds. The tip of her sword shivered with infused power. Ninsun's mana filled Arturia. It scuttled toward her, multitude of feet clattering against dry, cracked earth. She brought down her blade, releasing the pent up energy.

"Excalibur!"

Her Noble Phantasm exploded forth. When it faded, the scorpion monster was nowhere to be seen, body evaporated from Excalibur's sheer heat.

She heard Shulgi's horn. Three long bursts. That was the signal. Most of the surviving army also seemed to be pulling back, away from the carnage. The hole Gugalanna created lay there like an open sore.

Arturia went searching for survivors, a lone sliver of blue and silver amidst the red and gold hellscape.

...

Arturia headed back to Uruk. She had a rag tag collection of soldiers and several prisoners with her, one of them slung over her shoulder. He'd been standing over a crippled man, his pants at his ankles when Arturia found him. She knocked him out and then granted the downed soldier a clean death.

Another opposite soldier attacked them. A straggler who'd clearly gone mad. He wouldn't stop screaming. Arturia beheaded him. She felt numb.

Uruk waited for them, solid and safe. The walls appeared cracked in places from Gugalanna's earthquake, but otherwise untouched by the chaos just a few leagues beyond its doorstep.

Gilgamesh also waited for them. He appeared inscrutable.

"You did well," he told the soldiers. "You more than earned a respite."

They mostly looked tired. But several, Shulgi included, seemed grateful for praise from a king well known to be stingy in giving out praise. Sometimes it felt much more worthwhile and meaningful when earned, and not parsed out at every opportunity for simply and competently existing.

The prisoners were taken away. They would be questioned. Arturia let Gilgamesh handle the details.

She remained silent and stoic throughout it all. The next hour or so passed in a whirlwind, none of which she could remember, except, dimly, talking to Enkidu and having her injuries tended.

Arturia almost didn't realize she'd entered Gilgamesh's room.

"How are your wounds?" he asked, soft, his kingly visage dissipating once they were alone.

Her facade crumbled. She held Gilgamesh close, taking comfort in his warmth, and struggled to control her rapid breathing.

"It doesn't matter. I don't matter. They're dead," Arturia said. "They're all dead and I killed them, Gil."

"Do not lie to me," he retorted, sounding furious. Startled, Arturia stepped back. Gilgamesh composed himself. "We will learn from this."

She looked at him. Oddly enough, Arturia felt grateful.

"Gugalanna countering your Gate is a big deal," she said. He sagged and sat down on the bed.

"I know. I cannot, I just... fuck, I hate them!" Gilgamesh shouted. "How dare that stupid bull talk down to me like that?"

Arturia sat next to him. Gilgamesh put an arm around her shoulder. Arturia leaned against him, thankful for the physical support, even as his words nagged her.

"Is that really what matters right now?" she asked. Gilgamesh went quiet.

"I am arrogant. And anyone that wants to take that from me is certainly welcome to try. But I will not stand by, idle, and just let them do it. Make me eat my words, if you can."

"Who are you talking to?" Arturia asked, amused in spite of herself. He kissed the top of her head.

"Everyone," he said. "Well, almost everyone. You have already proven yourself."

"I wish it didn't always have to be about proving," Arturia said. "Don't you ever get tired of living with a chip on your shoulder, Gilgamesh?"

He studied her with bright red eyes.

"Yes. Do you ever get tired of carrying the burdens of everyone else?"

"... Yes," she admitted.

"You harbor doubts about our fight?" Gilgamesh asked.

"No. No, I do not. It just hurts."

They were both quiet. Drained and exhausted, taking solace in one another's company. Arturia felt laid low, and she had no doubt Gilgamesh was in a similar predicament despite his outward bravado.

"I was afraid," he said. "I thought I might lose you, and could do nothing to stop it. I have never been more scared, more helpless. I hate that most of all."

She hugged him.

Together they held a silent vigil, and prepared to face the next day with renewed determination. It would not be any easier.

* * *

a/n: Those scorpion monsters appear later in the Epic of Gilgamesh. But they're a neat concept, so I decided to use them here.


	23. Grabbing the Bulls by the Horns

_._

 _._

 _._

 _"He wrestled because he recognized that the blessings were worth the struggle. He knew that you only get to keep what you refuse to let go of."_

Arturia stared out beyond the wall.

Tents littered every direction. Only Gugalanna was granted wide berth. A recent attempt to scale Uruk's wall had been rebuffed. The Euphrates looked a shadow of its former self; a dried out riverbed.

She licked her cracked lips. These days, Arturia always felt thirsty, a constant itch at the back of her throat. It was much worse for everyone else.

A familiar pair of arms encircled her waist. Gilgamesh rested his chin atop Arturia's head. Even he appeared gaunt as of late. She felt his ribs, too sharp and too defined, press against her back.

"What are you thinking?" Gilgamesh asked.

"Their siege protocol is terrible. The work of amateurs. I could've cracked Uruk months ago, if given an army and the opportunity."

He laughed and asked, "What would you have done differently?"

"Everything." Arturia huffed.

Smiling, Gilgamesh pressed soft kisses against her neck in response. Grumpy and disinterested, she shrugged off his advances. He stepped back, unperturbed.

"I am glad you are on our side."

Arturia relaxed. Neither spoke for a while.

"They will break soon," she said.

His gaze swept the horizon before returning to her.

"I received a message today," Gilgamesh said. "It is finished."

"Truly?" Arturia studied him. Heavy bags underlined red eyes. He had not been sleeping well, plagued by nightmares. Arturia struggled with the same issue. Gilgamesh nodded. "Then the time is at hand."

Gugalanna witnessed them throughout the passing months. It never wavered. Never faltered. An indomitable force of nature apathetic toward all humanity.

"Yes."

"Gilgamesh," she said. He tilted his head. "We're going to win."

Gilgamesh smiled. Color darkened his cheeks.

"Of course."

...

Lugalbanda wiped the sweat off his brow. An already oppressive heat became unbearable in the sweltering hot forge.

"Maybe just my finest achievement, y'know," he said.

"You should not gloat, it is unseemly," Gilgamesh retorted.

Arturia chose to ignore their bickering, and instead studied the weapon. It gleamed before them, unassuming at first glance, a length of gold chain. But from it emanated a presence, tickling behind her skull. The chain almost felt alive.

Enkidu hung back, strangely quiet. He bore an odd expression; one of reverence.

"That came from me." Wonder crept into his tone.

"Indeed it did," Gilgamesh said, clapping Enkidu on the back. "How poetic."

He then reached out to touch the chain.

"I wouldn'–," Lugalbanda started saying, but it was too late.

Gilgamesh snatched back his hand with a hiss, sticking a finger in his mouth and nursing the burnt digit. That got Arturia's attention. She stared at him, head cocked.

Lugalbanda cleared his throat. He said, "Right. Anyway. As I was sayin', anyone divine will suffer a most grievous harm from this here chain."

Gilgamesh appeared irritated. Troubled, Arturia contemplated this new information.

"I don't like the sound of that," she said. "Can I wield it?"

"Yep. But it won' work on Gugalanna. Only divine blood does the trick."

"Even if that were not so, I shall be the one to bind the bull." Gilgamesh's eyes glinted with blood lust. "I will put it in its place."

Arturia frowned. She wished sometimes he was not so proud and stubborn. At the same time, Arturia had to admit she found his intensity more than a little attractive.

Lugalbanda grunted and glanced at Gilgamesh. "Right. Well. Needs a name. Wanna do the honors?"

Gilgamesh's face clouded over. Arturia imagined him going through a catalog of deity names in his head, which amused her. Enkidu spoke up, taking them all by surprise.

"Could you name it after me?" he asked. Arturia blinked and exchanged glances with Gilgamesh. "It would mean a lot."

Gilgamesh softened after a moment of thought. "Yes. I think it fits. Enkidu it is."

Enkidu beamed, overjoyed. Arturia found the request rather peculiar, but ultimately harmless.

Lugalbanda clapped his hands together and said, "Wit' all that sorted, I wanted to say summin' to Arturia. Alone."

She blinked again. Gilgamesh appeared offended. He opened his mouth and Arturia cut him off.

"It's fine."

He frowned but dropped the issue.

"I will wait outside. Come along, Enkidu," Gilgamesh said.

Once they left, Arturia folded her arms and stared at Lugalbanda, expectant. The man swallowed.

"This is it, innit? he asked. "I... I believe you two can do it. How strange."

"Your faith is quite a comfort," Arturia said, wry. Lugalbanda scowled.

"Anyway, I talked Ninsun into helping. Yer welcome."

"Truly?" Arturia took a step back. He nodded. "Thank you."

That visibly caught him off guard. Lugalbanda rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, don' mention it. Ninsun is, well, like mother like son I guess. Sometimes you think you would die for 'em, sometimes you think the world would be better off with 'em dead."

He wore a strange look on his face. Arturia stayed quiet. Lugalbanda seemed to find himself again and said, "I want, y'know, I don' think anyone ever thanked you. For helpin' and everythin'. For – for being there. So, right back at you. Thanks."

"I..." She didn't know why, but Arturia stifled the sudden urge to cry. "I appreciate that, Lugalbanda."

He nodded, turning solemn, and handed her the chain.

"Oh, and girlie? Whatever happens, make sure he don' let go."

...

They struck at dawn. Dull, ugly clouds cast a grey pall over everything. Dry wind whistled through dead grass.

Simultaneously, the bulk of Uruk's army prepared their assault. They would break their enemies in one fell swoop.

Gilgamesh stood beside Arturia. She looked exhausted, having tossed and turned throughout the long night. Arturia had lectured him on the importance of rest before a fight, but it made little difference for either.

She took his hand. He squeezed back and shot an impudent smirk her way.

"Ready?" Enkidu murmured, standing alongside them and appearing nervous.

Arturia summoned Excalibur by way of an answer. It glittered bright in the morning light. They then separated along the banks of a dried out river.

Gilgamesh hefted the Chain of Enkidu. Wrapped in cloth, he still felt it sapping at his energy, an ice cold brand burning through his skin, straight to the bone beneath.

Gugalanna rumbled as they approached. Enkidu transformed, and Arturia jumped upon his back. They broke into a sprint, pounding across flat, parched land, closing down the distance. Enkidu's monster form was large, and yet still dwarfed by Gugalanna's gargantuan size. Gilgamesh watched them leave, flexing, drawing upon his inner abilities.

Pieces of his armor vanished, revealing his upper torso. Red lines ran along bulging muscles. A vein in Gilgamesh's temple throbbed. Blood pounded in his ears as he channeled his divinity into cuneiform inscriptions.

The time was upon them.

" **HOW DARE YOU**!"

Gugalanna screamed with rage and even a bit of shock, as if it never thought anyone would confront it, safe within its ivory tower. The earth shook. Its tail lashed out toward Enkidu. Enkidu dodged, Arturia clinging to his back. The tail whipped around, catching Enkidu on the backswing. He released an unearthly noise and was swatted aside like a fly, crumpling in a heap.

Gilgamesh saw Arturia leap off Enkidu's back. Her armor flashed silver, her sword shone gold. She landed on Gugalanna's tail and sprinted upward, like a flea or a gnat. The Bull twisted about, trying to throw her off, and he felt a thrill of fear.

He unwrapped the Chain of Enkidu. It hurt. Sharp pain jolted up his arms, numbing them. Gilgamesh unleashed the Chain. It glittered gold, darting forward like an arrow, wrapping around the Bull and constricting like a snake.

Gugalanna screamed again, a mixture of surprise and pain. The chain grew longer and stronger in the deity's presence, shining brightly. Gugalanna thrashed, trying to break free, pulling the chain taught. Gilgamesh's arms jerked and he thought they might wrench out from his sockets.

The Chain bit deep into his palms, through to the marrow underneath his mortal flesh. He dug his feet into the ground and braced himself, straining.

Lightning flashed in a darkening sky. Harsh winds picked up, howling their displeasure. Sounds of violence could be heard as Uruk engaged the opposing army. Gugalanna continued writhing, trying to break free of the snare, frothing at the muzzle and shrieking obscenities.

A red mist descended. Gilgamesh tightened his grip. He would show them all, he would make them feel afraid, if he was nothing they were less than nothing...

But the Chain of Enkidu sapped at Gilgamesh's strength. He stumbled and Gugalanna dragged him forward. He nearly let go. Brief, intense terror filled Gilgamesh, and for a split second he thought he might fail, might lose.

And then he spotted Arturia again. She continued climbing the bull's back, keeping her balance despite its efforts to buck free. Even from a distance, a tiny, insignificant spec compared to their foe, he sensed her immense, dogged determination.

It inspired Gilgamesh. Power flowed through him.

Besides, he could not lose. He was the great King Gilgamesh! No one would remember a man defeated by a bull of all things!

And thus, for the second time in his life, Gilgamesh fought with every ounce of his being for something he believed in. That they were worth no more or less than he, and that their actions also held repercussions. He would prove it before all the world. Death and judgment were the great equalizers.

Gilgamesh roared and hauled back. His red tattoos flared, and the resulting surge of energy smashed Gugalanna's face into the earth.

A massive earthquake radiated out from the epicenter of the attack. Gilgamesh retained his footing, mouth twisted into an animalistic snarl.

"Stay down, you filthy mongrel!" he shouted.

Gilgamesh saw Arturia reach the nape of Gugalanna's neck, right behind its horns. She raised Excalibur and it burned with holy retribution. It was an image he would never forget. The memory crystallized, she hung there, suspended amidst the fury of heaven, a moment in which Arturia became the epitome of everything she embodied, everything he respected and admired about her; bravery and purpose and hope. In that moment, to him, she was the ideal leader.

Gugalanna tried to move but it was thoroughly bound. It tried to speak but dirt filled its mouth. Helpless despite its vast strength.

Its hide no longer glittered gold, divinity swallowed up by the Chain of Enkidu. The Bull of Heaven appeared ordinary, dull, unimpressive. Gugalanna did not seem to know what to do, an apex predator laid low by its prey. It lay there, flanks heaving, streaked with blood and spit.

Arturia reversed Excalibur and plunged it into Gugalanna's neck. Light exploded out of every orifice. When the light faded, Gugalanna lay on the ground, dead, carcass scattered across much of the Euphrates' banks.

For a second there was only stunned silence. A droplet of rain hit Gilgamesh's cheek. Then another. A downpour opened up upon Uruk and its surroundings, and a great cheer rose from the east. He had a premonition, and knew they were victorious.

Gilgamesh dropped the Chain of Enkidu. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his knees.

I did it. We did it. We all did.

His heart soared even as he sank into the mud. Gilgamesh laughed, joyous, and tasted salt on his lips, mingling with the rain. Then he realized he could no longer see Arturia. Worry replaced euphoria.

Gilgamesh stood and accessed his Gate. With Gugalanna gone it was no longer blocked from him. He felt as though a missing piece had been returned, and placed the Chain of Enkidu within.

He hobbled toward the fallen body of the bull. Mud mixed with a thick, viscous ichor that coated churned, jagged earth. A lump trembled and dislodged. Arturia sat up, wiping mud from her brow, appearing a bit dazed.

She made eye contact with him, and he spotted a gleam of triumphant satisfaction. Arturia stood and ran at Gilgamesh, taking him aback with an enormous bear hug. He staggered before wrapping his arms around her. He wanted to lift her up and spin her around, but he was too tired. He couldn't feel his hands. Instead he kissed the top of her head, not caring at all that Arturia was drenched and filthy.

"You're hurt." She turned his palms up and studied the wounds there, expression critical. Then she brushed her lips against his hand, cool touch piercing the numbness. Gilgamesh blushed.

"That is what it means to be human," he told her. Rain dripped down their faces, plastering their hair to their skulls as mud oozed and worked its way into their armor.

They had accomplished the impossible.

Pride and joy in equal measure filled him.

Arturia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. The world around them was grey and brown and ugly, reeking of death, and yet never before had it been more beautiful to Gilgamesh.


	24. When the Music Stops

_._

 _._

 _._

 _"I thought, it's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I'd had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her."_

Arturia entered Eanna Temple to see Shamhat tending Enkidu's injuries. Most of the wounded received treatment nearby. Low, pained moans added a melancholic undercurrent to proceedings. Shamhat wore all black. When Arturia asked why, the priestess replied, "We are in mourning."

Carousing could be heard in the streets. People celebrated their victory loudly and proudly. Compared to the cacophony of Gugalanna, it sounded sweet like silence. Gilgamesh had also gifted the contents of his Gate upon everyone; milk and honey flowed throughout Uruk.

"How is he?" Arturia asked.

Enkidu had sustained grievous wounds. He lay on a mat, ribs crushed and face wan, sporting a faint smile.

"I am dying. Make sure Gil builds a statue in my memory... a giant one, where everyone may gaze upon it," he whispered.

Arturia snorted and Shamhat chuckled.

"He will survive, he is not one to stay down long." Shamhat brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Enkidu hummed softly. She hesitated before stealing a glance toward Arturia. "I heard King Gilgamesh was also hurt?"

Arturia frowned and said, "He is a stubborn fool."

Shamhat lapsed into silence. She tended Enkidu for a few moments longer. "What you both accomplished, it is a miracle. You know that?"

"A miracle," Arturia echoed, wistful.

"I helped too," Enkidu said.

"That you did." Arturia took his hand, becoming fierce and passionate all of a sudden. "That you did."

He smiled, studying her.

"Art," Enkidu said. "Go enjoy yourself. You have earned it."

Shamhat looked away.

...

After leaving the temple, Arturia decided Enkidu was right. She wanted to enjoy the hard fought victory with everyone else. For once Arturia truly felt as though she had overcome a worthwhile challenge. She recalled the terror and excitement that thrilled her as she scaled Gugalanna's back. An often elusive sense of accomplishment bubbled up, eager to be released.

Various overjoyed people shoved food and drink into her hands. They ran around naked, arms outstretched as rain fell from the heavens. The mood proved infectious. She felt euphoric. Music rang out, loud and joyful.

Arturia smiled, unable to stop, grasping a flask of ale and downing it every few seconds. Soon the tips of her ears turned red and the world became hazy. She went looking for Gilgamesh.

She found him wrestling with soldiers. They rolled around in the mud, shouting and egging one another on. The mood was playful. Even though Gilgamesh won each bout with ease, no seemed to mind. Arturia's heart swelled at the sight.

He caught her gaze and jumped to his feet, grinning. His hands were bandaged, and Arturia felt a flicker of worry.

"A challenger approaches!" Gilgamesh shouted. She forgot her concerns, overcome with the desire to kick his ass.

Throwing her drink to the ground in response, Arturia hurled herself at him. Everyone cheered. The duo grappled for several moments, before laughter incapacitated Gilgamesh. Arturia wriggled free and pinned him, then lost her balance and tumbled onto the wet, muddy ground. Freezing cold and soaked to the bone, Arturia had never felt happier.

"I won," she told him, a bit louder than necessary. He smirked and heat stirred in her gut.

"And what spoils befall the victor?" Gilgamesh asked, flushed from their tussle and perhaps something else as well.

"Perhaps we can negotiate terms," Arturia said. Now he looked indignant.

"Kings do not negotiate!" Gilgamesh declared.

"Not even with other kings?" she asked. He furrowed his brow. The surrounding crowd started chanting, urging him to accept. Gilgamesh grinned and raised a hand.

"Enough. Enough!" he said, laughing, an infectious, carefree sound. "Fine. I will grant you audience in my throne room."

"Such benevolence." Arturia wished she had not thrown aside her flask. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she mourned her lost alcohol. "How will I ever repay you?"

"I am sure I will think of something," Gilgamesh assured her.

...

They didn't quite make it to the throne room.

Gilgamesh pressed her against a wall, mouth and hands all over her, kisses sloppy and unfocused. Arturia snorted, fingers tangled in his thick hair as she tugged him down toward her. Both more than a little tipsy, they stumbled and nearly fell over several times. He steadied her, the bandages on his hands brushing against her arms. It triggered her protective instincts, and Arturia grabbed him by the wrists.

"How are your injuries?" she asked, breathless. Gilgamesh blinked.

"Fine. Great. Fantastic, even. F-a-n-fucking-tastic – ow."

Arturia prodded his palm and he flinched. She looked triumphant and he looked annoyed.

"I knew it," she said. "You should let Shamhat help you."

"No." A stubborn gleam shone in his eye.

"It's not her fault. She was just doing what she was told."

"I know."

"You cannot keep every priestess out of the palace forever."

"Actually, I can."

"Gilgamesh." She frowned. He hesitated.

"Only time shall heal these wounds. And perhaps not even that," Gilgamesh replied.

"That's just an excuse to avoid visiting the temple."

"I will neither confirm nor deny." He kissed her again, clearly uninterested in pursuing the conversation further. Arturia dropped it. A battle for another day. Not right now.

Somehow, making out all the while, they staggered into the throne room. Gilgamesh seated Arturia on the throne before kneeling between her legs, rolling up her sopping wet dress. Red faced, she cleared her throat as best she could, struggling to draw even breath.

"W-wait," Arturia said. Gilgamesh stopped pressing kisses against her inner thigh and sat back on his haunches. Head cocked to the side, his arm rested on her knee. The sight set her heart racing and she needed a moment to recover. "I, ah, we shouldn't..."

"Why not?" Gilgamesh looked puzzled. "You would like it."

"It's not... right," she managed to spit out, blushing bright red. He considered this.

"You believe that?"

Arturia didn't answer. Mainly because the blood pounding in her ears drowned out coherent thought. And seeing Gilgamesh bowed before her like that made Arturia feel things. She shivered, hands gripping the throne's armrests hard. He frowned, staring at the goosebumps rising up her flesh.

"You are cold," Gilgamesh said.

She opened her mouth to protest and sneezed. Plucking at her soaked wool garments, Arturia replied, rueful, "A little, yes."

"I am too." Gilgamesh smiled.

"And drunk."

"That also."

"And muddy."

"As are you."

Arturia chuckled and wiped some of the dirt off his face. He had never looked more beautiful to her than in that moment, filthy and disheveled and flushed with arousal. She said, "Want to take a bath?"

"I thought you would never ask."

...

They laid in bed, damp and comfortable and clean and very naked.

Outside they heard revelry. Whoops and shouts and hollering and laughter and above all else, music. Lutes and drums and lyres and more, weaving in and out of the raucous celebrations. They would last long and late into the night.

Gilgamesh watched Arturia bite into a hunk of meat, expression amused. She ripped off a chunk from the bone and chewed, methodical, savoring the taste.

"That is disgusting," he said, chuckling.

Arturia swallowed and frowned, indignant. She did not normally indulge in such luxuries, but tonight was an exception. Content and relaxed after both a bath and sex, Arturia felt rather lazy, an alien sensation she quite liked, if only for the novelty of it.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"May I have a bite?" Gilgamesh asked.

She thought about his request. After a second, she held her prize out for him, a little reluctant. He bit into it, ripping off a huge chunk and Arturia jerked back, scattering bits of meat everywhere. Gilgamesh started laughing again and then he started choking. She set her food aside on the bedside table, concern overriding her irritation.

"Are you okay?" Arturia asked.

Gilgamesh chewed, swallowed, and wiped at his streaming eyes, a broad smile plastered across his face. "Never better. The bed is a mess now, however."

"Because you shoved as much of my dinner into your mouth as humanely possible – when you said a bite I did not think you meant half my meal," Arturia retorted, peeved.

"I have a big mouth. It was quite good, if a little spicy. I could not help myself, you have such excellent taste," Gilgamesh said. Mollified, Arturia propped herself up on her elbows.

"True," she said loftily, "I enjoy my meat thick and juicy – that's not a jest, Gilgamesh."

Arturia punched him in the shoulder while he giggle-snorted like a little kid. It was one of the cutest sounds she'd ever heard, a series of ragged, high pitched gasps. After Gilgamesh controlled his more childish instincts, they picked pieces of meat out of the sheets together. Arturia then licked the grease off her fingers and he watched her with an expression of great interest. He took her hand and began sucking on her fingers, his mouth wet and warm.

They had sex again, and it was good.

Arturia's previous sexual experiences involved Guinevere and Morgan, both marred by deception and disgrace. Guinevere in particular had been excruciating, because Arturia could tell her wife hated it, and this further exacerbated Arturia's self-loathing. Sex became a painful chore that she dreaded. Arturia never understood how something people killed one another over could bring her such humiliation. An ugly cycle destined only to end in tragedy.

(And then there had been Morgan. Arturia once admitted to Gilgamesh that while magic had been involved, she begged Morgan to fuck her again once it was over. She had liked it, liked being touched by another woman, desperately, wanted someone to love her for who she was, rather than what she needed to be, and that truth brought her intense shame. Gilgamesh went very quiet, before telling Arturia she had done nothing wrong. She didn't believe him, but she felt better upon hearing it.)

Gilgamesh rolled off her and they both lay there, panting, needing to recover. Arturia brushed her bangs out of her eyes and fixed him with a questioning look.

"Gilgamesh," she said. "About earlier. In the throne room. I was thinking about it, and I believe I would be interested in... trying. Maybe. Another time. Right now I am tired."

He blinked and then smiled. "Okay. You know, there are many interesting things we could try."

"Is that so?" Arturia asked, curious. His smile transformed into a wolfish grin, and she felt a flicker of foreboding.

"Imagine how much more enjoyable it would be with more people –."

"Absolutely not." She frowned.

"It would be fun!" Gilgamesh rested his chin in his palm, directing a pleading look her way, like a dog looking for table scraps. She refused to be swayed by his begging.

"I like it because it's with you. I don't want... others," Arturia said, labored. "I know you view this differently than I. It is hard to explain."

He went quiet.

"Not even Enkidu? You like him."

"Yes, I like him, but I don't want to fuck him." Arturia resorted to vulgarity in a fit of mild grumpiness. Gilgamesh laughed. Her lips twitched upward in response.

"Not even a little? Surely you are curious." Now he was definitely teasing her.

"Gilgamesh."

"Oh, very well. At least give it some thought."

"Fine," Arturia said, mulish. Then she had an idea. "But I will only consider it if Shamhat is allowed to be there too."

She could tell from the look on his face that he wanted to say no. Gilgamesh's smile dropped away and he hesitated. Suddenly the conversation shifted from lighthearted to serious. Arturia wondered if she pushed too far on the issue.

"... I will consider, also," he said at last. Arturia smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. Gilgamesh had a tendon there that he liked her to massage. He flopped on his stomach, expectant, and she snorted.

"This conversation is absurd." Arturia stopped. Gilgamesh pouted. He was so adorable and yet also annoying, it truly was unfair.

A strange look crossed his face. He cleared his throat, blushing, and took great interest in his pillow.

"There is another rather absurd proposal I have been considering."

"Oh?" she asked, intrigued by his change in demeanor.

"As in a marriage proposal." Gilgamesh now made eye contact. Arturia stared. She felt her face turn red. Her heart started beating fast.

"Oh."

"What are you thinking?"

"It would never work." The words tumbled out. Arturia struggled to keep her composure. Something tight knotted in her chest. "I, I am not, really, here, here, in the sense that I, uh..."

He placed his hand over her heart. "You are 'here' enough for me. More than enough. Steadfast and true."

She fumbled for a rebuttal.

"I cannot bear you an heir."

"I do not care."

"You say that now," Arturia muttered.

"We would find a solution." Gilgamesh was undeterred. "You my queen, I your king."

"I do not... like the idea of being a queen." She frowned. He looked puzzled once more.

"Why not? Is it not the same as being king?"

"They have different meanings," Arturia said.

"Yes, but they are of equal worth, are they not?"

"Perhaps they should be, but what should be and what is are not the same."

"Then change it," he replied. She opened her mouth and closed it, at a loss for words. "Arturia. I have thought a lot about marriage. Often. Most of my life I have seen it as a burden, as a duty. Chaining two people together to a lifetime of thinly veiled contempt. But, I believe, we could make it a declaration. To the world. That I would like to spend the rest of my life with my best friend. Side by side. In sickness, in health, for better or for worse, through the good times and the bad. Do you understand?"

Her eyes felt hot. She pressed her palm against her socket and took a slow, deep breath. Once Arturia collected herself she looked at him.

"Okay."


	25. Things Fall Apart

...

...

...

 _"My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future."_

Gilgamesh woke up in a state of mild discomfort. His palms ached. It reminded him of how his father would complain about his collarbone in bad weather. Lugalbanda broke it once fighting another man to the death.

Gilgamesh glanced over at Arturia. She still slept, which surprised him, as she tended to be an early riser. Sleep smoothed the frown lines out from her face; Arturia looked very young and vulnerable. At peace.

He stroked her bared shoulder, tender, contemplating waking her up to see if the idea of morning sex interested her. Gilgamesh drew back. Frowning, he then pressed his hand to her forehead.

Arturia had a fever. Although slight, her skin felt clammy and warm. He could not recall, once, in the time they'd spent together, her ever getting sick. He'd never thought about it, but always assumed it to be impossible.

She stirred, turning away and burying her face in her pillow. Arturia mumbled something incoherent but clearly annoyed. Gilgamesh relaxed, amused. She was just tired. Defeating a god was no easy matter, even for them. He decided to leave Arturia alone, although he would no doubt tease her mercilessly when she awoke.

His mood brightened at the thought. Humming a cheerful tune, Gilgamesh rolled out of bed and dressed for the day. Outside rain continued falling, a light drizzle. The weather was rather miserable, but he didn't much care. Gilgamesh applied medicine to his hands. Then he left, almost skipping down the hall.

Much needed to be done. He went and found his chief armorers. They had begun excavating Gugalanna's corpse, a treasure trove of riches. The horns alone were plated with lapis lazuli two fingers thick. Gilgamesh had slaves hang the horns on the wall of his throne room, where he could always admire and savor his triumph.

People embraced him and there was much rejoicing. Songs glorifying Gilgamesh and Arturia could be heard in the streets. This delighted him. After some pondering, Gilgamesh decided to give the rest of the Bull away to the city. They were his vassals, and worthy of his treasures.

Gilgamesh spent the next few hours working through logistics and damage reports. Uruk had survived the storm, but now they needed to rebuild. There would be time for more feasts and celebrations later. The upcoming wedding ceremony in particular would be a sumptuous occasion sung about for centuries.

Part of Gilgamesh had thought for sure Arturia would refuse his request. That she agreed made him feel light and bright. He wondered what his mother would think. Then Gilgamesh daydreamed about the wedding, meticulously planning out the event in his head. It would overshadow even the marriage of Ishtar and Tammuz, which would no doubt infuriate Ishtar. An additional bonus.

He asked for news on Enkidu's health. That he recovered well pleased Gilgamesh. They would hunt together to make up for Gilgamesh not visiting Enkidu at the temple. A fair compromise.

Noon came and went.

Arturia still did not appear, which was not like her at all. She often observed Gilgamesh while he worked, quiet and keen and without judgement (well, for the most part). A shadow of concern grew with the sun's passage in the back of his mind.

He caved and returned to their room, cutting short a session with his generals on peace negotiations. Outside Gwawr, now full grown, scratched and whined at the closed door. He shoved her aside.

Gilgamesh knew as soon as he stepped beyond the threshold that something was very wrong.

Arturia lay burrowed beneath the covers, still naked, curled up into a ball and shivering. He felt heat radiating off of her from where he stood. Gilgamesh ran and knelt beside Arturia.

"Art...?" His voice sounded high pitched and strange to his own ears.

She took a long time to react. It felt like an eternity. Arturia turned and looked at him. Her eyes, usually full of fire, seemed dull and glassy.

"Gil." She struggled to speak, as though it required great effort on her part. "I feel strange. I had a dream. Ishtar and Ninsun were there, and... others. I think. The gods were in council. It hurt to look at them. They were arguing about us. This is the end for me. The arrow is falling."

"What are you saying?" he asked, his voice hushed. "You are unwell, do not speak of such terrible omens."

"I slew the Bull of Heaven," she said, frowning a little. "I am being punished. The final command seal... They will take you from me, just like when they took my name."

Gilgamesh wanted to argue. But his clairvoyance, that awful gift he often ignored, told him what she said was true. And yet Gilgamesh refused to believe it.

"I shall fetch Shamhat." He stood. "She will help you."

Arturia just stared at him. She appeared exhausted. The sight made him feel ill too. Gilgamesh turned on his heels and strode out of the room.

He sent a messenger for Shamhat. Gilgamesh went to see his mother. His hands curled into fists and his face resembled a thundercloud.

The doors to Egalmah banged open. Gilgamesh stormed in. Ninsun waited for him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted.

"Gilgamesh –."

"What did you do?!" His words bounced off the cold, hard floor. Water dripped from somewhere unseen, steady and rhythmic.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Ninsun regarded him, impassive. She appeared to choose her response carefully.

"The Bull of Heaven is slain –."

" _What did you do_?!" Gilgamesh shrieked. His voice went up an octave.

" **Do not interrupt me** , Gilgamesh. First Humbaba of the Cedar Forest and now Gugalanna the Bull of Heaven have been murdered. A price must be paid."

Silence. All the blood drained from Gilgamesh's face. This wasn't happening.

"Therefore you kill my best friend."

"It is not death, not exactly. Saber has obligations of her own to fulfill. One day you will understand. But her time in this era draws to a close."

Semantics. Nothing Ninsun said made sense. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that Arturia would be lost to him. They were hurting her because of him. Reality set in, then, and he felt himself begin to crumble, begin to break. His palms burned as if branded by cold fire.

"How could you?" Gilgamesh asked, low and soft.

"She struck the killing blow. There must be repercussions."

"How could you?" Gilgamesh's voice trembled as he repeated himself. He sank to his knees. Everything seemed far away. Distant and fading.

"I know this is difficult, but everything happens for a reason –."

"A reason?" Gilgamesh sounded small and pitiful, like a little boy. "Did... did you know this would happen? Why would you do this to me? Gift me the companionship I never even knew I wanted only to take it away after I have grown to love it dearly?"

Ninsun hesitated and then said, "I warned her. I warned her, Gilgamesh. There are different paths, and you both chose which ones to walk."

"Then it is our fault?" Gilgamesh whimpered, swallowed, and continued on. "I trusted you. I trusted you, you, you were the only one, Arturia is precious to me, my pillar, and you took to it a hammer. I thought you, you alone, I trust – and you betrayed me. How could you?

"When I was a boy you kissed my scraped knees, walked with me through the city, took me to the temple while father was being a fucking waste of space, where we would play together with the prostitutes and the votaries and you taught me magic and the law. A-and, yes, we drifted apart as I grew older, as I realized – but I never forgot that, that bond we shared, the unbreakable bond between mother and son. How could you betray me like this?"

"I had no choice." Now Ninsun sounded frustrated and agitated. "Not with Enlil baying for blood and Ishtar wanting – Gilgamesh, I have only ever tried to do what is best for you, I will always place you first and foremost, because I _love_ you –."

"Your love has killed me!" Gilgamesh found his feet again, in a flash. Rage burned through him, underscored by grief. His voice cracked. "Your love has killed me more assuredly than any enemy I have ever crossed.

"How could you be so cruel?! You never loved me, you love your own reflection! I curse you, and any parent that gazes upon their child and sees only themselves. If this is love it is a most poisonous, self-centered kind, like a snake that eats its own tail, and I want no part of it. I, I..."

Overwhelmed, Gilgamesh became nauseous. He doubled over and retched. Vomit bounced on the cold, hard floor. Bits of his dinner from the night before glistened in the dull light.

"Gilgamesh," Ninsun said, alarmed.

He stumbled, slipped on his own sickness, fell with a thump, and then staggered back onto his feet, wiping at the corner of his mouth. Unshed tears filmed over his eyes.

"S-stay away from me! We are finished! Do you understand? I will never forgive you. _Never_." He almost choked on the words, on the bile clogging his throat and the phlegm building up in his nose. Ninsun stared and then became aloof.

"You will no longer honor thy mother and father?" She sounded disappointed. This upset Gilgamesh greatly.

"No. Perhaps I never did."

Anger flickered in Ninsun's gold gaze. Her response was frigid.

"As you wish. You are an adult, and soon a true king. Know that she has seven days left."

Gilgamesh fled.

...

He found Lugalbanda at the forge. His father looked up when Gilgamesh entered. A grin crossed the other man's face, and then faltered as he took in his son's distressed appearance. Gilgamesh was soaked and disheveled, eyes wild.

"Did you know?" Gilgamesh asked. His words brimmed with barely restrained emotion.

"Oi, what are you on about?" Lugalbanda asked. Gilgamesh lost control.

"DID YOU CONSPIRE AGAINST ME YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT?!" He grabbed the nearest object, a shield, and hurled it at his father. It glanced off the other man's temple. Lugalbanda bellowed, staggering back and clutching at his head.

" **WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU**?!" His eyes flashed gold.

"You murdered her! You murdered Arturia and betrayed me, just like Mother. You knew all along, conspired with the gods against me. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Gilgamesh reached for another weapon. Lugalbanda closed him down and shoved Gilgamesh up against the wall, pinning him in place.

"Of course I didn' know, I was just tryin' to help!" Lugalbanda shouted. Giglamesh wriggled in an attempt to break free. He could have overpowered Lugalbanda, easily, but grief clouded Gilgamesh's mind. He became weak as a kitten.

"Get off me!"

Lugalbanda ignored Gilgamesh, tightening his grip.

"But you know what? 'M not surprised. Because 's just how they are. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a fracture for a fracture. You truly believed they would do nothing? 'S not just laughable ignorance, 's fuckin' **stupid**."

Gilgamesh stopped resisting. He sniffled.

"Then it should have been me. What use are laws if they do not affect those that need them most? Arturia was innocent. Her sword may have struck the final blow, but my desires moved her hand. It is not a fair judgement," he whispered.

Lugalbanda let go. He wiped at the blood dribbling down his face.

"Yeah, well, life ain' fair. Yer King of Uruk. Might be she calls herself a servant, but we both know the truth. Girlie is a slave. Course she took the fall, likely she was doomed from the start. Equality is a lie, and slaves that bite at the hand of their masters are dead men walkin'."

Gilgamesh stared. His lower lip trembled. Then he began to cry. It was a wretched sight. He sobbed like a wounded animal, shoulders shaking, tears and snot streaming down his face. Shuddering gasps wracked his frame as he struggled even to breathe. Gilgamesh slumped to the ground, defeated.

Lugalbanda didn't seem to know what to do. He looked at Gilgamesh, wide eyed, and then twitched. Turning, Lugalbanda went and rummaged in the back for something. He returned with a bottle of hard liquor.

Gilgamesh laughed, hysterical, gagged on spittle, and managed to say, "I fucking despise you."

Lugalbanda grunted in response and poured out two cups before sitting next to his son.

"Somethin' I learned a while back. If you don' feel anything, they can' hurt you."

He offered Gilgamesh a goblet. The young king considered and then took it, still crying softly. It was difficult for Gilgamesh to grip the smooth clay cup; his fingers were numb. He downed his drink in one gulp and started coughing. He pawed at his face.

"Terrible," Gilgamesh said once he recovered somewhat. "Absolutely terrible."

He reached for more.

They drank in silence together for a long time. Blood dripped down Lugalbanda's face onto the ground. The sound mingled with the gentle plink of rainfall. Gilgamesh broke the quiet.

"I will save her." His words were slurred, but his eyes shone bright with resolve. "I defied the gods once, I shall do it again. I have seven days. I will save her."

Lugalbanda said nothing. He just poured out another cup.


	26. Only the Gods are Eternal

_x_

 _x_

 _x_

 _"I'm sorry for my inability to let unimportant things go, for my inability to hold on to the important things."_

Gilgamesh dreamed.

He set sail in a land of mud and dust. Dark reeds waved on the river shore. Bodies floated in still water, bloated and grotesque. A lion and a sword accompanied him.

On the banks of the Euphrates grew a solitary willow. The magnificent Thunderbird dwelt amongst its branches. A great wind then tore it out at the roots and shattered its branches.

Ishtar wept. Her tears transformed into hail, striking over and over against muddy ground.

"Please," Gilgamesh pleaded with the lion, pleaded with the sword, "There must be a means to save my steadfast companion, the one who has counseled me, who has stood by my side through thick and thin. She has not been struck down in glorious battle, on the field of men, but by treachery and deceit and sickness.

Asked the lion, "How long until you sit on a pure throne?"

Asked the sword, "How long until you lie on a pure bed?"

"Oh, please!" Gilgamesh said. "There must be a way! She is my dearest friend, I fear I will be lost without her. She is the torch that lights my way. If ever you harbored even the slightest favor for me, aide me, I beg of you. You know well that I, great King Gilgamesh, will not beg, but for her I will, I shall crawl on my hands and knees and kowtow if that is what it takes."

The sword said, "We cannot intervene. However. The willow tree has witnessed much. Plant it in the Garden of Ishtar and listen to its wisdom."

Gilgamesh obeyed, and then he listened.

...

Enkidu felt restless. His injuries healed fast, but not fast enough. Arturia was dying. The rumor spread like wildfire throughout Uruk, and then Shamhat confirmed it for him.

"I do not know what is wrong," she said, frustrated, tears in her eyes. "She is weak and constantly getting weaker and I do not understand why. When King Gilgamesh heard this he threw me out. I have not seen her, or him, since."

Gilgamesh remained locked inside his room with Arturia. Enkidu was frantic and worried and also a little bit angry. The mood in the city soured. People whispered that their king suffered from weakness, that Uruk had not yet recovered from the war, that soon the wolves would scent blood and begin to circle. This angered Enkidu even more.

"Gil and Art just defeated a divine creature and already they are afraid, the cowards," he said, fuming.

"King Gilgamesh is being driven to madness," Shamhat replied, brooding. "When I saw him it was terrifying. He would not look at me."

That sealed the decision for Enkidu. He stood, wincing as his ribs twinged. "I will see him for myself."

"But your injuries." Shamhat looked alarmed.

"They are manageable. This takes precedence."

Enkidu hobbled toward the palace. Gilgamesh placed two guards outside of his room. They watched as Enkidu approached. He ignored them and hammered on the door.

"Gil! It is I, Enkidu. Grant me an audience, I wish to converse with you."

No answer. The guards folded their arms. They looked nervous, likely because they knew could not take Enkidu, even injured, in a fight.

"I swear, Gil, if you do not let me in I will break down this door." Enkidu raised his voice.

A pause. Then:

"Enter."

The guards seemed relieved.

Enkidu entered. He felt a jolt of shock and horror – his dear friends were borderline unrecognizable. Unkempt and unshaven and underfed, Gilgamesh hunched in a chair beside Arturia. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, clothes dirty and rumpled. Various miscellaneous objects from Gilgamesh's Gate surrounded him, scattered haphazardly everywhere. It looked as though a whirlwind had swept through. The room stunk of illness and alcohol.

Arturia lay asleep in bed. Face slick with sweat, sunken and gaunt. Every couple seconds Arturia tossed and turned, mumbling nonsense, expression a tight grimace. She appeared washed out, faded, as if whatever tied her to the world was slowly draining away.

"Everything happens for a reason," Gilgamesh muttered. He watched Enkidu with a bizarre glint in his eye.

"Gil, what is going on? Why are you sick at heart? What has happened to Arturia?" Enkidu asked, unnerved.

"Sleep is the cousin of death," he answered, "She who sleeps, she who sleeps, the Mother of Birth and Death, she who sleeps. Her clean shoulders no garment covers. Her breast like a stone bowl does not give suck."

"Ereshkigal?" Enkidu was puzzled.

Gilgamesh stood, abrupt, and crouched beside Arturia. He touched her hand, watching her with great intensity. Then Gilgamesh glanced at Enkidu.

"I had a vision. Of the netherworld. Secrets fill its crevices. I will save Arturia. They shall not take her from me."

No one had ever journeyed to the realm of Ereshkigal and returned. It was a desperate, foolish plan. But Enkidu understood, then. "Tell me."

That caught Gilgamesh off guard. He stared, expression impassive. Then he grabbed Enkidu by the collar of his shift and kissed him, hard, on the mouth. Enkidu blinked, taken aback.

"I feel as though I loved you in another life," Gilgamesh told him.

Enkidu felt something, then, although he knew not what. Regret, maybe. He did not care for the sensation.

Arturia moaned and they both paused. She opened her eyes, gazing upon Enkidu without seeing him, and spoke in a guttural, foreign tongue. Then she fell back into a fitful sleep. Gilgamesh hovered nearby, distraught, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Tell me," Enkidu said again. "Arturia is like a sister to me. I will assist you in your endeavor. But first, let us break our fast together."

Gilgamesh needed a moment to collect himself. Then he had slaves fetch food and drink. As they shared a meal, Gilgamesh spoke.

"If this day you are to go down into the netherworld, I shall give you instructions, instructions I heard listening to the willow tree. Follow my instructions.

"Do not dress in a clean garment, for they will surely take you as a stranger. Do not anoint yourself in sweet oil from the flask, at the scent of it they will surely surround you. Do not hurl a stick in the netherworld, as those struck by it will surely surround you. Do not grasp a rod in your hand, because the shades will surely tremble before you. Do not wear sandals on your feet, it will surely make the netherworld shake.

"Kiss not the wife you love, strike not the wife you hate. Strike not the son you hate, kiss not the son you love. Beware the one who lies, or the outcry of the netherworld shall seize you."

Enkidu did not quite understand. But the sight of a heartsick Gilgamesh and deathly ill Arturia filled him with determination. He wanted to help. Enkidu nodded.

...

"I wish you would not go," Shamhat said, morose. She seemed so sad as of late, still dressed in black, and nothing Enkidu tried cheered her up at all.

"I will not stand by, idle, and watch Art wither away, and Gil along with her," he replied. His ribs felt tender, but Enkidu would soldier through.

"King Gilgamesh could at least accompany you, then." Shamhat almost sounded resentful.

"He does not wish to leave Art alone, and I do not blame him. Besides, the netherworld is a perilous place. Uruk cannot risk losing Gil. I am expendable."

"Must you speak such awful portents?" Shamhat asked, frowning.

"It is true. Even if it was not, I volunteered. This is my decision."

Enkidu kissed her. After a brief hesitation, she kissed him back.

"Please come back home safe," Shamhat said.

"I shall try."

Enkidu turned and walked along the road, out of the city. Ugly scars from the war still stained the earth. After several minutes he glanced over his shoulder.

He liked Uruk a lot, much better than his old watering hole. The familiar walls gladdened his heart. He hoped to see them again soon. Enkidu took a deep breath and pressed on.

He would never return.

...

Gilgamesh dreamed again.

Before him stood Enkidu, pale and translucent. Gilgamesh tried to touch him, but the other man was a phantom.

"I did not heed your advice," Enkidu said, sober. "And surely the netherworld seized me. Forgive me. I am ruined."

Gilgamesh felt an intense sadness at these words, but also a driving need to _know_. "What did you see? What secrets did you uncover? Might they serve Arturia somehow?"

"It is a place akin to garments infested with lice, a crack in the floor filled with dust. When first I entered before me stood a somber-faced birdman. Oh, Gil, he scared me so much. He had feet like the paws of a lion and hands like the talons of an eagle. He made me transform, my arms became wings covered with black feathers. He fell upon me and dragged me into a house where people sit in darkness and dust. Even those who had once been kings of the earth had been forced to cast aside their crowns. I found these." Enkidu handed him a mallet and a ball. They were of expert craftsmanship. "Nothing I learned will help Arturia, however. She is lost."

Gilgamesh stared at the objects in his hands. They were made of wood and bone, marked by beautiful engravings. Grief anew overtook him.

"As are you, too."

He realized, then, that he had been tricked. Fresh tears trickled down his face and Gilgamesh wept bitterly. Enkidu hesitated.

"But perhaps what I learned might serve _you_ ," he said. "I witnessed the fates of many men. Some who bitterly lamented their lot in life, others who rejoiced with light in their hearts. Men consumed by maggots and men fine like the nimble hand of a scribe. I noticed those who had loved and been loved in return by many were those with the most joy. Those who lived alone continued to suffer alone."

"And what of men that die a premature death?" Gilgamesh asked, dully.

"They lie in the throne of the gods."

...

Gilgamesh awoke. He had fallen asleep on the ground, beside the bed. He felt stiff and sore. Arturia muttered something unintelligible above him. In his grasp were a mallet and a ball. Gilgamesh sat up.

He gazed at the gifts from Enkidu. A brief urge to break them and hurl them out onto the streets consumed him. But in the end, Gilgamesh placed them within his treasury.

Crawling into bed with Arturia, he curled around her. Outside he heard Gwawr scratching at the door and whining. Gilgamesh ignored the noise.

Arturia shook like a leaf, trapped in a fever dream. When healthy she always seemed so sturdy and dependable. Now she was frail. Small, too. She once towered above everyone despite her tiny stature. He also felt small. Small and defeated.

"How can I save you from something I cannot fight? It is all I am good for," he said. Gilgamesh buried his face into the crook of her neck and cried.

Arturia shifted, feeling his tears, and gazed at him, eyes clouded and hazy. There was a brief flicker of clarity. She touched his wet cheek.

"Sorry," she whispered, which just about broke his heart.

Gilgamesh choked on his grief, choked on the words, 'it is not your fault'. Instead, he held her close, because he did not know what else to do.


	27. Please Save Me, I'm Dying of Thirst

.

.

.

"You can't love anything more than something you miss."

Arturia's remaining time in Uruk spanned both an agonizing eternity and a blink of an eye. Minutes bled into hours which bled into days. Much of it she spent maddened by fever. Often Arturia spoke in tongues, strange, guttural ramblings that Gilgamesh failed to comprehend.

Sometimes she called out names of strangers. Once she hallucinated, referring to him as Lancelot over and over again. Until her final, parting words, that was the worst moment.

Gilgamesh alternated between rage and despair. He entered his treasury and tore it apart, searching for something, anything that could provide a solution. While some of the medicines he owned alleviated her pain, all of it proved ineffective in the end.

This sent Gilgamesh into paroxysms of fury; he would hurl his treasures about and scream alone in the dead silence of his Gate. He shouted, "Useless! All of it, useless shit!"

Then there were times when Gilgamesh sat at the foot of the bed. He listened to Arturia mumble about drowned babies, staring vacantly at a spot on the wall. Other times he would cry. Gilgamesh felt as though he had cried enough to flood the entire city. His throat perpetually hurt, his eyes always swollen.

He stopped eating. When Gilgamesh drank, more often than not he drank alcohol. He looked emaciated and exhausted. People whispered that at night he drifted through the halls, gaunt and pale as a ghost, wailing like a widow in mourning.

(This was untrue. Gilgamesh never left his room, never left Arturia. He observed nearly every single torturous second of her slow departure.)

Then came the final day.

Arturia seemed insubstantial. He could almost see through her. She opened her eyes and gazed upon him. A lucidity returned to her, a break from the haze and lethargy that plagued her, but in her eyes dwelled a shadow. Gilgamesh noticed and straightened, wide eyed.

"Art?" he asked, shaky and raspy.

"... I wish I had never been born," Arturia muttered. Gilgamesh stared.

"W-what?"

"I wish I had never been born. Why did I not die at birth? Why did knees receive me, breasts for me to suck? I could be at rest with kings, help them rebuild ruins from the mud. I built houses with foundations of clay, and now, between morning and evening, they are dust; their people crushed like moths. Everyone I ever loved has perished without any regard from anyone. I wish I had never existed at all. Perhaps then the world would be a better place."

"That is not true," Gilgamesh said.

He realized, then, the depths of her own despair. Gilgamesh knew Arturia harbored inner demons, but not until that moment did he realize their full portent. He thought he would have more time to help her.

Gilgamesh had run out of time, and in that moment he realized how badly he failed Arturia.

"Even my body, that which I could always count on, has now betrayed me." She laughed, low and hollow. A peculiar madness, born of intense pain, afflicted her. The shadow in her eyes was that of insane fervor. "I would rather be strangled to death than endure this suffering any longer. I loathe my life, Gilgamesh.

"If I sin, what do I do to you, watcher of humanity? Why am I a burden? Why have I transgressed? Take away my inequity, let me lie in the still earth. Seek me if you must, but you shall not find me. Let me alone, look away as I swallow my spittle, forget me, and you will know peace."

"No." Gilgamesh leapt to his feet. He paced back and forth, agitated, like a caged animal. "You cannot ask me such a thing. I will cause all the people of Uruk to weep over you. I will raise the dirge of the dead. The joyful people will stoop with sorrow; the elders will bless you, waving their fingers as you ascend up the slope of the mountain."

I will let my hair grow long for your sake, I will wander through the wilderness in the skin of a lion. I shall fashion a statue of you, and you will live on in the memory of future generations."

"They will not care, Gilgamesh," she retorted, dully. "They have suffered their own heartaches. I am nothing to them. They might feel a fleeting sadness, might tell my tale to their children, but that is the extent of it. Even if you could, I do not want such a fate. I do not want to be remembered by those who never knew me, turned into a story, used and twisted and abused by strangers. All to prove their own, petty beliefs. No, I would rather be forgotten."

"I can make them care." His voice quivered. "What point is there in wielding power if I cannot use it to control people?"

Arturia stared at him, expression blank. Then, low and soft, she said, "I have failed you too, it seems."

"My failings are my own." Resentment sullied his tone, despite everything. He wanted to say, 'sometimes you can be so selfish.' But Gilgamesh choked on the words, for how does one berate someone not in their right mind?

(Or, perhaps, this was who Arturia had always been, brought to the surface at last. But he rejected the possibility on principle, because it would've destroyed him.)

"Fine. But I cannot forget you. Even if I did not always agree with you, you brought me a new perspective. Because of you, I was able to think about things I never would have thought about otherwise. This, this, I value it so much, is this not what separates man from the common animal, and yet you imply that I should forget it, that it meant... nothing? Do I mean nothing to you, Arturia?"

Her lip trembled, but Arturia did not cry. Gilgamesh thought he saw a semblance of the woman he knew before when healthy. But then bitterness engulfed her once more.

"There is hope for a tree," Arturia said. "If it is struck down, it will grow again. At the scent of water a long dead stump will bud. But mortals expire. Where are they? We lie down and never again wake; until the heavens are no more, they will not be roused out of their slumber.

"Once, Gilgamesh, you told me you felt like a dog in a cage. I feel trapped, too, in a pit of mud. And I see the sun, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot climb out of the pit. I continue to slide down, over and over again, becoming filthier and filthier with each attempt, while the sun hovers above, mocking me. While I suffocate, mired in my own misfortune, seeking the future and yet shackled by the past, others are free of the pit, frolicking in the sunlight.

"Why can't I? I hate being alone, Gilgamesh. I don't want to go back, I want to stay with you. I want to leave the pit, I want to leave the hill. What am I doing wrong? What is wrong with me?"

She struggled to speak, her soul soaked in blue.

"Sin always comes home to roost, Gilgamesh. They say the meek shall inherit the earth. All I have witnessed has shown me that might makes right. I... I just wanted those who were weak to not have to be afraid anymore. I thought it was... a good dream. But there is no hope. I realize that now. There is no hope. It is all one, both the wicked and the blameless. Disaster brings sudden death, and He mocks our calamity."

Gilgamesh had no answer. Tears blinded his gaze.

After a long time, Arturia said, again, "I wish I had never existed."

Those were her final words. He held her hand and watched Arturia vanish before his eyes. Gilgamesh was left with nothing, not even a body to bury.

...

Gilgamesh sat in silent vigil throughout the night.

Come morning he exited his room. He found Gwawr curled up, listless, near the door. The guards eyed her warily. Gilgamesh ignored them and prodded Gwawr with his foot. She did not react beyond a sluggish flick of her tail.

He bent down and picked her up, struggling a little with the weight. He had lost much of his strength. Gilgamesh carried Gwawr to the rookery. It was a long, slow, arduous process.

Upon arriving, he laid her down. He took Anu out of his cage, letting the blindfolded eagle grip into his favorite glove. While Gilgamesh would respect Arturia's dying wish and not force her memory upon his people, he would still grieve her loss.

Gilgamesh said:

"I weep for Arturia, my friend. I weep for my steadfast companion. Oh, Arturia, you were the axe at my side, the strength of my hand, the sheath at my belt, the shield before me. An evil Fate has robbed me of you.

"Night and day murmur. The walls of Uruk weep for you. Hark, there is an echo through all the country like a mother in mourning. Weep all the paths where we walked together – and the beasts we hunted, the bear and hyena, tiger and panther, leopard and lion, the stag and the ibex, the bull and the doe. The river along whose banks we used to walk weeps for you.

"I remember what we had, and will cherish it always. How we charged through the cedar forest together, how we slew Humbaba. How we protected the walls of Uruk, how we slew Gugalanna. Together. No one can take these accomplishments away from us. You were always brave and kind and true, with the gentle touch of a lover and the firm grip of a warrior. When I was with you I did not feel alone.

"I lament what could have been. You were to be my wife, a chosen ring of good advice. We could have gone on many more adventures together. Like an eagle I circle over you. Like a lioness who has lost her whelps I pace back and forth. You no longer lift your head, your heart no longer beats.

"What is this sleep which holds you now? You are lost in the dark and cannot hear me."

Then Gilgamesh snapped Gwawr's neck and broke Anu's wings.

...

Gilgamesh sat on the steps of the palace. He drank heavily. Empty flasks lay scattered at his feet. People granted him a wide berth.

Shamhat passed Gilgamesh by, and paused. Trails from tears streaked her face. She took in his disheveled appearance. Shamhat went and fetched her king bread. She presented it to him, keeping her gaze averted. After a long moment he stirred and glanced at her.

"Please, my king, I beseech you to eat something. You are unwell."

He considered her for a long time. Gilgamesh grabbed the bread and tore into it, like a starving creature. He gestured, and Shamhat cautiously took a seat by his side.

"They took her from me," Gilgamesh said, voice thick and drunk. "They took her and I could do nothing to stop it. I am no savior."

"I mourn her too," Shamhat said, voice quiet and soft. "Arturia was a good friend. I would have liked to say goodbye."

He stilled. A curious, predatory aura enveloped him. His red eyes glittered far too bright.

"You would have liked to say goodbye?" Gilgamesh repeated. Shamhat realized her mistake too late.

"I-I only meant –."

"I would like a lot of things, you know," he said, conversational, deceptively calm. "Most of all, I would like my friend alive and well. But she is gone. Taken from me by the gods. And here we are now, a king and a priestess. You are a favorite of Ishtar, this I know. You have her favor, and know much. Tell me, is Ishtar cackling over my misfortune? I am sure she is delighted by this turn of events, that fucking bitch."

Shamhat looked like she dearly wanted to run away.

"I d-d-do not believe she wanted –."

Gilgamesh grabbed her by her hair, faster than the eye could follow, and cruelly jerked Shamhat to the ground. She cried out, startled and afraid and in pain.

"P-please don't hurt me," Shamhat said, terrified, lying frozen before him.

Gilgamesh responded by jamming his foot into her chest. He broke her rib cage with a loud, ugly crack. Shamhat screamed. A growing crowd watched from afar, gaping like morons.

His eyes glowed with madness and violent intent. Shamhat tried to sob, but choked, coughing on blood in her mouth. Tears leaked down her cheeks. Gilgamesh knelt, straddling her, and tightened his hands around her neck. She tried to squirm, tried to fight back, but it was no use. He strangled Shamhat then and there. He felt her die, felt her struggles weaken and fade, observed her body go slack and the light leave her eyes as her life departed for the netherworld.

"An eye for an eye. At least you received a quick death," he said.

Shamhat did not respond. Her face was blackened and swollen, ugly bruises marring her crushed windpipe. Gilgamesh stared at the face of death and felt something stir inside him. Terror. True terror. He became afraid of dying.

He finally broke. Gilgamesh howled like a rabid dog. He tore at his hair and clothes and flung his finery to the ground. Then Gilgamesh ran, sobbing, out of the city.

…

Ninsun watched Gilgamesh flee down the road. Her hands kneaded her robes. Ishtar sat beside her, head in hands. She cried softly.

"We have pushed him too far," Ninsun said, fretful.

Ishtar didn't respond for a long time. At last she raised her head. Kohl ran in rivulets down her cheeks.

"He will return," Ishtar said. "His soul is chained to these walls."

...

...

...

a/n: Instead of giving her Enkidu's speech, I had Arturia quote the book of Job. I thought it fit better.


End file.
